Duly Noted
by LadyDunla
Summary: Outtakes for The Journal, everything that I couldn't fit into that story. Missing moments, glimpses of the future, it's all in here. Thorin/OC.
1. Chapter 1 Disagreement

**Hello dear readers and welcome to Duly Noted, the outtakes and additions for The Journal. I'd strongly advise to read that first, or this will not make any sense at all.**

**This is a little earlier than I had planned, but well, The Journal was all such heavy stuff lately and I wanted something a little lighter, I got quite a few requests about one-shots about Thorin, Kate and their kids and so the first outtake was born.**

**Enjoy!**

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_**Duly Noted**_

**Chapter 1**

**Disagreement**

"_Do you remember, Cathy, that one time when you caught Thorin and me in the very middle of a minor disagreement about a subject I have long since forgotten? You were only five or six years old, coming over to our room late at night because you were unable to sleep. I remember very well that you were a little scared when you heard us talk in raised voices, using phrases like 'headstrong woman' and 'right royal imbecile.' I explained to you that it was only a disagreement and not a fight, after which you made us swear that we had never really fought, nor would we ever do it in future."_

The Journal, Chapter 7: Arguments

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**Erebor, 2964 TA**

This had to be the worst day Thorin Oakenshield had seen in quite some time. On days like these he sometimes wondered why he had ever wanted to reclaim his Mountain in the first place. Or maybe he should have reclaimed it and then left the job of being king to someone else. Apparently being a king in exile and being a king in his own Mountain were two very different things. In the Ered Luin he had not had quite so much paperwork to deal with, not that he could remember anyway. And he did not think there were quite so many nobles complaining about pretty much everything a noble could possibly complain about back then. He could not remember that from his exile anyway.

_That would be because most of the Erebor nobles ran to the Iron Hills_, a little voice in the back of his head commented. Most of them had only returned once the dragon was dead and the Mountain was theirs again, acting like they had every right to do that. Thorin had been on the verge of saying that if they had not been willing to share the hardship, then they had no right to share the advantages of the restored kingdom either, but it would turn out that they actually did have the right, according to the laws.

It did not mean he had to like that he had to put up with the likes of Lord Nali. The dwarf was positively ancient – had celebrated his two hundred and seventieth birthday last year if Thorin remembered correctly – half deaf and had unfortunately been on the receiving end of Thorin's youngest son's childish mischief.

The King under the Mountain rubbed his forehead, fighting a mild headache, hoping it would just disappear, but the chances of that happening were slim to none. He loved his children dearly, but sometimes he wished there was not so much of him in them. Thorin and Frerin had been the terror of the Mountain as kids and those were stories Dís, being the doting aunt that she was, had always loved to tell. It would now seem that his offspring was trying to prove that they could be just as mischievous as their father had been in his younger days.

Well, thank Mahal that his girls at least knew how to behave themselves. Duria had always been going by the rules, every single rule she had ever been set. She was younger than Thoren and Thráin, but she had been lecturing the boys on their behaviour since approximately the age of five, copying Kate's sternest tone of voice so well it was almost creepy. And Cathy was just a sweet girl who liked to curl up on his lap and fall asleep there while he told her a story or sang her a lullaby.

No, it was his male offspring that caused him headaches and grey hairs. Thoren and Thráin had been a nightmare. The two were what his wife called the dictionary definition of inseparable and always up to one prank or other. Thoren had now become a little more serious. As heir to the throne he could not be seen gallivanting around the palace all hours of the day, playing childish pranks on practically everyone. He had duties to attend to and the lad was coming to see that for himself. Thorin hated the need for his eldest child to grow up so fast, but it would seem that royalty was doomed to that.

Maybe that was, he pondered, why had let the rest of them be childish for as long as they wished. Fortunately Thráin was growing up as well, but the same could not be said about Jack. Six, almost seven, years old and he was a menace, always getting himself and Flói, his partner in crime, into trouble. The worst thing was that most people could not even be really be angry with him. The boy just smiled that sweet innocent smile and all was forgiven and forgotten. Of course Lord Nali had to be the exception.

The king looked at the paperwork on his desk and decided to call it a night. He would not get this done before midnight anyway and he had already missed out on a night with his family. The children would be sleeping by now, but with any luck Kate would still be up, waiting for him, reading a book, seated in her usual seat in front of the fire. Thorin was very tempted to grab some wine and join her there.

True to expectations Kate was where he had expected her to be, nursing a cup of tea and a huge book that was laid open on her lap. 'You're late,' she remarked, not even looking up as Thorin came in and closed the door behind him. 'What kept you, the paperwork or Lord Nali?'

The king shed his coat and marched over to the vacant chair opposite Kate's, making a small detour to give her a kiss before he sat down. 'You heard?'

The queen closed the book. 'I did.' She tried and failed to keep the corners of her mouth from curling up. 'I know I should not be thinking this funny, but…' A chuckle escaped from her lips. 'Lord Nali, covered in ink from top to toe?' The sound that came out this time was a very unqueenly giggle.

And Thorin could not keep himself from joining in, not entirely. He had been hard-pressed to keep his face straight when he had seen it too. Apparently it had happened in the library where Lord Nali had been doing some research for something. Jack and Flói, being very bored with their lessons a level higher, had watched over the balcony and detected the most annoying noble in all of Erebor right under aforementioned balcony. What had followed was that two – or three, or four… – bottles of ink had suddenly fallen right on top of said lord's head. Lord Nali had been covered in blackish blue ink all over, spoiling his expensive clothes and elaborately braided white hair and beard. It also so happened to be very good ink, durable, very difficult to remove. It would take weeks, if not months, for all of it to come out again and with that the dwarf lord was not pleased.

'What were they thinking?' he wondered, shaking his head. They had been lucky that it was not a foreign dignity this time. Thráin and Thoren had done that once and the chaos had been absolute.

Kate shook her head. 'They weren't.' She snorted. 'And Jack has two older brothers to look up to in that regard. Sometimes I do wonder if naming him after my brother was such a good idea. Jacko was just like that when we were children.'

Thorin sent her an inquisitive look. 'And Cathy is just like you at that age?'

'Afraid not,' his wife told him. 'I used to be in just as much trouble as he was, more even. You know, sometimes it's difficult to punish Jack for just being a young boy making mischief when I used to be so much worse.'

'And when Lord Nali deserved everything he got?' Thorin added.

Life truly was good. It may be filled with paperwork and whining nobles, but he also had a wife and children. Thirty years ago he had not believed that would ever even be for him and he had been content with that. He had not missed it. Of course he had not exactly known what he had been missing out on. Thorin was still none too fond of Gandalf, but he did owe the wizard, if only for whisking Kate away from the world where she had been born.

'Look at you,' Kate said. 'You almost seem to regret that you weren't there with the boys to help them pour the ink over Lord Nali's head.'

It would be a lie to say that after all that whining Thorin was not very close to doing exactly that, no matter how wrong or politically incorrect it was to do so. And diplomacy had never been Thorin's strong point, but he had managed to refrain from saying or doing things he would certainly regret later, instead settling for fantasising about pouring ink over Nali's head while he nodded, made apologies and pretended to fully understand why Nali was so angry.

'He got what he deserved,' Thorin pointed out. 'He's been nagging all week about that new mining shaft.' He got up to pour himself some wine. 'How was your day? Calm?'

'I wish,' his wife muttered. 'I was supposed to have a meeting with some of the tradesmen of Dale, but then Duria had a… problem.'

The way she spoke the word problem made Thorin suspect this was not something he wanted to know about. '_Female_ problem?' Dwarves did grow up a little slower than the children of the race of Men, if only a little, but his children had a human woman for a mother. Thorin had hoped that he had a few years left before he needed to worry about all that with his eldest daughter, especially since she was the most dwarvish of his offspring.

Kate heard the tone of voice and laughed. 'In a way,' she replied. 'But not what you're thinking. She's had that particular female problem for the last two years, Thorin. Keep up, will you? She has started to grow a beard.'

Thorin frowned and turned around to look at her, trying to hide his unease about the idea of his daughter having that other female problem. 'That's not a problem, is it?' Beards were normal for dwarf women and Duria was half a dwarf. Her human blood was not even visible in her looks at all, but that had never been a problem before. So what was the matter now?

'No, it isn't,' Kate sighed. 'Not really. It was just that she was afraid that she didn't want one.' The queen looked a bit sad now. 'She wanted to look like me and now she's afraid that Narvi might not like her anymore, because she has a beard.'

Good. 'She was too good for him anyway.' There was nothing wrong with Narvi, nothing much anyway, except that he had the guts to trail after Thorin's daughter like a lovesick puppy for nigh on two years.

Kate looked disapproving. 'Thorin…'

'She is,' he insisted. Of course Kate had to side with that boy. She thought it adorable. 'And she is far too young anyway. Have you seen him, Kate? He's at least ten years her senior!'

'Pot, kettle, black,' his wife shot back. 'If you're so obsessed about age, you should not have married me either.'

'That's different,' he said dismissively. Really, she should be on his side in this. They were Duria's parents, they should present a united front on this matter, to protect their little girl.

'Yes, we have an age gap of exactly one hundred and seventy-two years,' Kate reminded him. 'That's quite a bit more. I haven't heard you about that awfully much.' She turned back to the fire and Thorin re-joined her. 'She's fine now, more or less.'

They would need to have this discussion about Narvi and Duria another time, Thorin decided. He did not have the energy for it now. And this was one of the very few subjects the two of them would never agree on. 'That's good,' he said, secretly grateful that she had handled this. He might not have done so well. As Dís – and Kate on occasion as well – never tired of reminding him, he was not very skilled in the art of reassuring people at all. 'What else happened?' he questioned. That scowl he well knew had crept onto Kate's forehead. Something had displeased her.

'Nai happened,' she replied. 'Lord Nali's daughter. She came banging at the door just after noon, I think, to demand my full apologies for the ink incident.' The scowl deepened. 'She even had the nerve to tell me how I was to raise my children, since I was clearly incapable of giving them a good dwarvish upbringing.'

Thorin's hands clenched into fists at the mere mention of this. He knew his decision to marry Kate Andrews had been not well received by each and every one of his people. Like a certain elf had once remarked, it was quite unheard of and yet he had done it all the same. Some had accepted it, with or without a little help, but there were those that remained hostile towards the once company advisor. Nai, daughter of Nali, was a prime example of that. Although in Thorin's opinion no one was less suitable for lecturing someone on non-existing parenting skills than that woman, because her children were quite the bullies and Nai let them.

But at least Thorin knew that he had married a woman who could hold her own. Gandalf had told Kate long ago that it had been her temper that had made her so well qualified for the job of company advisor, but it was an asset for the Queen under the Mountain as well. With so many people at least very sceptical of Thorin's bride, even now, it was a good that she could stand her own ground.

'How dare she?' he growled.

'That's what I said,' Kate said. 'What a harpy that woman is. I may or may not have told her that she was to look at her own children before she came near mine again. Then the whole usual blah blah followed.'

'Usual blah blah?' That did not bode well. It meant that he had missed something that could be important.

'About how you could have married a much better woman than me, that I had polluted the line of Durin etcetera.' Kate shook her head. It was almost, Thorin realised, as if she had heard it all before, heard it before and could not really care anymore.

The point was that he had never heard any of this before. 'Polluted?' he echoed, his voice dangerously low. Maybe it would be best for everyone if Nai and her children were exiled from Erebor. That would make it clear that he did not tolerate this kind of behaviour towards his wife. If he had gotten his way, he'd have thrown her from the gate, but as a king he could probably not been seen doing that, or be seen losing control of his temper in such a manner.

'Poisoned was the word used,' Kate said. 'Along with polluted.' She gave him a scrutinising glance. 'Don't beat yourself up over it, will you? I can handle her. I did make her back off eventually.'

Of that he had no doubt – and it was not quite of the question that Nai had been in tears when Kate was through with her – but he could not let this pass either. 'You are my wife and she insulted you.'

'You used to insult me on a daily basis once, if my memory serves me well,' she shot back.

'But…' he began.

'Good grief, Thorin, knock it off, will you?' They may have been married for more than twenty years now, but that did not mean that they did not clash anymore and some things never really changed. 'Stop fighting my bloody battles for me! I can do that myself well enough, thank you very much.'

She may be a queen of a dwarven kingdom, but sometimes she really did not understand a thing about their culture. 'Is it so disagreeable to you that I would want to stand up for you, headstrong woman?' he demanded. He did not exactly know when he had ended up on his feet, but when he checked again he was standing and the wine lay on the floor.

'And so you can go ahead and bite everyone's head off when they so much as look at me the wrong way?' Kate too was now standing. 'Oh yes, I am sure that would make for a fine scene to look at. Sometimes you can be a right royal imbecile, Thorin Oakenshield. That will only succeed in making it worse!'

And her words made this situation worse. 'How long has this been going on?' He had believed that the talks at least had stopped years ago, even if some people refused to get it into their thick skulls that it was none of their business who their king had married. He could not take away their opinions or their prejudices, but he could put an end to them voicing said opinions.

Kate knew what he was doing. 'Forget it,' she snapped at him. 'And you're not getting any names either. Not as long as you're like this.'

'And like what am I?' he growled. Kate was as stubborn as any dwarf he had ever met, but she was still not used to being protected. And if she could, she would stop him from doing so. It was one of the things that frustrated him most.

'You're about to storm off and teach those people a lesson with your fists the moment I tell you those names,' she said. 'And that's not going to happen.'

Did she truly not understand? 'Kate…'

'Mama?'

Whatever Thorin had been planning to say, the sound of his youngest daughter's voice stopped him from saying it. He swivelled around to see Cathy in her night's clothes in the opening of the door, looking utterly forlorn. She had a thumb in her mouth and was staring at the two of them. Mahal help him, she was barefooted as well and that while it was still winter.

And that was not to be borne. He took three big steps and lifted his little girl from the ground. Kate used to call him a big softie where Cathy was concerned, but on this he tended to ignore her. 'What are you doing out so late?' he asked gently. 'It's almost midnight.'

'Couldn't sleep.' Cathy was Kate's spitting image, but she was much shyer than her mother. That showed now that she buried her head in Thorin's hair.

'Do you want me to sing you a lullaby then?' he inquired. For some reason his daughter liked those and it had always helped her to sleep. Of course that meant that he usually ended up having to carry her back to her room, but he did not really care about that. Kate usually just smiled and remarked that her youngest had her father wrapped around her little finger.

'Yes please.' The words were hardly audible since she muttered them against his hair, but it was a predictable answer anyway. And so he sat down in his chair and favoured his wife with that look that told her that they were not yet done talking about this. But he was not having his discussions with Kate in front of the children.

'You were fighting,' Cathy said as Thorin set her on his lap. There was an underlying tone of fear there.

It must be father's instinct to put his little girl at ease. 'No, we were not, dear girl,' he told Cathy. Well, they had been, but she needed to be reassured.

'You were shouting,' Cathy insisted. 'Mama and Lady Nai were shouting too.'

Mahal only knew what Cathy had overheard. Part of him was not sure he even wanted to know, but he was quite sure that it was nothing a girl her age should have heard. He knew the ugly things Nai, daughter of Nali, could say – no doubt her father's bad example was contagious – and he knew that Kate could lose her temper quite impressively as well. Today was clearly not his day.

'That was a fight, dear.' Kate had rolled her eyes at his immediate denial of what they had been doing being a fight, but she was not showing any of that now. 'Your father and I merely had a disagreement. That's something else. I was really angry with Lady Nai for something she said, because she said something very mean. Your father and I had a different opinion about something. It's not the same.'

Thorin nodded. 'Aye. It was a disagreement. We don't fight, Cathy.'

Kate quickly gave him a well-known on-your-head-be-it-look that their daughter did not see. And he might even have to admit that this was not the cleverest thing he had ever done, but what mattered now was that Cathy was reassured enough so that she could get the sleep she needed.

'You never fought?' Cathy asked.

'We didn't,' Thorin lied. Oh, he was getting himself into trouble with this, not in the last place with his own wife, but it was for the greater good.

'And you promise you never will?' his daughter insisted. Shy she might be, but when she had her mind set on something, she was just her mother; not giving up until she had what she came for. Quite a feat for a six year old. And when Thorin found himself on the receiving end of her demands, she did get what she wanted. He'd better make sure that Thranduil did not find out how easily he could give in sometimes.

'Promise,' Thorin said. After all, if their latest fight counted as a disagreement, then they would have no problem at all keeping that promise. It would be easy. 'Now, how about that lullaby?'

Cathy soon drifted off to sleep, too tired to stay awake for much longer. Sometimes Thorin suspected her of staying awake on purpose when he had a lot of work to do and could not be there when Kate put her and her twin brother to bed. It made him smile, even if he really ought to reprimand her for it. Well, he could always do that some other time, surely.

Kate arched an eyebrow at him as she watched him. 'Honestly, Thorin? We never fought?' Disbelief was obvious in her voice. 'And in what parallel universe did we never fight, if I may be so bold to ask?' She might be disapproving of what he had said, but she was amused as well. The dwarf king knew her long enough to know that.

'We argued,' he told her, rather pleased with his own explanation. 'We fought orcs.'

Kate just threw her head back and laughed.

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**Updates for this one may be a little irregular for a while since I have a few other things to finish as well, but I do have quite a few ideas already. Of course, if there is something you want me to write, just let me know and I'll see what I can do.**

**Reviews would be very welcome. I'd love to hear what you think about this one!**


	2. Chapter 2 Prejudice

**Hello dear readers, here's the next one-shot. It's a missing moment/deleted scene this time and it would fit in between chapter five and six of The Journal.**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 2**

**Prejudice**

"_The dwarf race did not seem to have it easy. (…) She had seen it for herself when they had stayed in Bree for the night. There were whispers and barely concealed hostility. She had to do her shopping by herself, because most shop owners would not allow dwarves into their shops for fear they would steal something, which admittedly was probably wholly justified where Nori was concerned. But the others were all honest and trustworthy, not that the town's people acted like it. Clearly it was all right to have dwarves as workers in town, but they were about as welcome as orcs when they were guests in it. _

_And then there had been the worried glances people had sent in her direction that had set her teeth on edge. The innkeeper had even gone as far as to discreetly suggest that she was welcome to stay in Bree if she needed to escape. The man's concern had been genuine, she could tell, and at that time she had wanted to go home more than anything, but staying in Bree was hardly going to get her there and so she had politely declined, telling him that she was travelling with the dwarves out of her own free will. That wasn't quite the truth, but it at least put the man's nerves to rest, even if he had been staring at her as if he thought she had lost her mind."_

The Journal, Chapter 33: Plans

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Kate could feel it the moment they entered the town of Bree. She was not sure what it even was that she felt, but that it was unpleasant, that was rather clear. Bilbo was ill at ease, which was nothing to new, because he was not yet accustomed to the idea of even going on an adventure, never mind the notion that he _liked_ to be on one. He might even be longing for his nice hobbit-hole already for as far as she knew. The burglar was not used to horse-riding, even when it was only a pony he was riding, and he looked like a little ball of misery curled up on Myrtle's back.

Kate could relate to that. The horse-riding was causing her muscles to ache, making it difficult to sleep at night. But her physical discomfort paled in comparison with the matters that were haunting her mind. The realisation that she was neither insane nor dreaming had more or less sunk in now, so she was quite convinced that she had for some stupid bloody reason ended up in _The Hobbit_ after all and that she was now enlisted to go with the company as their advisor for reasons as of yet unspecified. This did however not mean she had to like it and if she would get her way, she'd be home today rather than tomorrow, but that choice was not up to her, it would seem. She was not powerful enough to magic herself from one world to another. That she needed Gandalf for and he seemed oddly determined for her to stay, also for reasons as of yet unspecified, even when he could not have missed out on the fact that the dwarves wanted Kate in their midst about as much as she wanted to be there.

So, the hobbit didn't like being here and neither did she, but the dwarves were ill at ease as well, which was something new. They had been excited about the prospect of going on this quest and while they were still in the Shire, they had been loud and overly cheerful, even if Kate often found herself receiving the cold shoulder treatment. Ori, Thorin's nephews, Balin and Bofur to a lesser extent seemed to somewhat like her and heaven only knew what Bifur thought, but with the rest of them it was quite obvious that they did not want her here. They thought her a burden, much like they thought about Bilbo, and she was only here because of the wizard and no one seemed to quite know what he had been thinking when he brought Kate Andrews into the mix.

But when she was not concerned, this group was the school example of Robin Hood's merry men, with the emphasis on the merry part. There was nothing merry about them now that they came near Bree. It had started around midday, Kate thought, when Thorin had announced that they would spend the night in the inn before they would make their way into the wild. There had been a few worried glances exchanged between some of the dwarves and after that it had only gone downhill. The cheer had disappeared and by the time they rode through the town's gates, that in all honesty looked like they could not even keep out a hobbit when closed and would probably fall apart in the first strong gust of wind, the company was cloaked in silence. Only Gandalf seemed perfectly calm and cheerful, but that was hardly a surprise to anyone. He was always like that, much to most people's endless annoyance.

_What the hell is going on here?_ That thought settled in Kate's brain and made itself comfortable there. Because it wasn't just the dwarves that appeared to be highly uncomfortable here, the town's people did not seem too happy with their arrival either. She might have put that down to the fear of their pantries being raided the way Bilbo's had been, but the barely concealed suspicion in their eyes was too malicious for that. People did not look like that just because their food stores might be in some form of danger. That was not the way the world worked.

She briefly contemplated asking Balin about it. He was what seemed to be her self-appointed personal guide to Middle Earth. Thus far he had been kind to her. He was the kind and patient grandfather of the group. Balin liked everyone, it seemed, and nobody disliked him in turn. And Kate was grateful for that, because she sometimes liked to have someone to talk to who was not showering her in questions about her world and took the time to answer some of hers.

But even Balin was now alert and taciturn and she decided against it, instead opting on observing, hoping she could might be able to learn a few things that way.

Her observations did not make her any happier though. People got quickly out of their way when they approached, but it didn't seem out of respect. Kate spotted a young mother who ushered her two children, who had been playing on the street, back inside with a worried expression on her face. Well, maybe the obvious display of arms made the people nervous, the supposed advisor thought, looking at Dwalin, who indeed looked rather threatening. It did however not account for the dwarves' uneasiness.

And that uneasiness only increased – in tenfold – when they reached the inn. Some of the company were downright jumpy and that was something unexpected for her. The innkeeper seemed polite enough when Thorin asked for rooms and, with a glare that would have gotten him arrested for murder if looks had that power, paid for them in advance when it was asked of him. Gandalf's presence and familiarity with the owner of the inn seemed to help with that, because he kept the suspicious glances to a bare minimum, so unlike the other guests. Kate even saw a few of them leave the moment they saw who it were that were coming in.

_What the hell is going on here?_ She feared that she was for some reason missing some very vital information about race relations here. The idea of _not welcome_ was conveyed well enough by the town's people, but what she didn't know was why. If her memory served her right, then she had heard quite a few things of dwarves working as tradesmen, smiths, tinkers and the like all over Eriador. Bofur especially liked to share his stories of his fortunes and misfortunes on the road at the campfire at night. Why would people be opposed to having skilled craftsmen in town? It seemed rather foolish to her.

Again she contemplated asking, but one look at the faces around her told her to not get her hopes up. It was all rather doom and gloom around her, even though the sun was shining and her own thoughts were not very good company either these days, most of them revolving around what her family must be thinking when she would not come home when she was supposed to and her own strong objections to being here. When the adventure was in a novel it was all good and well, but doom and gloom was far easier to take when it was printed on paper than when one found oneself in the middle of it.

'I'm going out,' she announced as soon as she had dumped her bags in her room. She still had the money she had won from Thorin and in the past few days it had become quite clear to her that her own clothes were never going to do for a journey such as the one they were going to make. Purchasing clothes from this world felt remarkably like accepting that she was going to be here for quite a while and that was not something she wanted to be planning for, but to not do it now she had the chance, that would not only be unwise, but even downright foolish. She could only hope she would not be needing the clothes for too long. 'Buying necessities.'

She still had a few hours before the sun would go down and she assumed the shops would be open until roughly around that time. At least she hoped they would be, because she needed them to be.

'Alone?' Bofur asked. 'I don't think that's wise, lass.'

Kate felt the need to point out that a) it was still day and not even nearly dark yet and b) she was a grown woman who didn't need anyone to chaperone her when she went into town alone. She suppressed the urge. Bofur was one of the few to be kind to her thus far and she was not going to ruin that if she could. Only heaven knew how long she still had to put up with this lot. It would be nice if she didn't have all of them against her.

'I think so,' she therefore replied. 'Although some directions would be nice.' Bree was not all that big, but all the streets looked alike to her and she could really do without losing her way.

'Fíli, Kíli, go with Miss Andrews.' Thorin did not even look up from the maps he had been studying when he barked his command. 'Make sure she's back here before sundown.' The dwarf sounded both weary and annoyed, both of those emotions caused by her decision to go out and make his life yet a little more difficult, Kate imagined. She made a mental note to stay far, far away from him for the duration of this quest, or as far away from him as she could manage anyway.

That didn't mean she liked his assumption that she could not look after herself though. In fact, she was on the verge of launching into a tongue-lashing that Bree would remember for years, but something told her she might regret that later. Best let it be for the time being perhaps. _Pick your battles, girl_. This was not worth getting into a fight over, especially not with tempers being as short as they apparently were.

So instead of losing hers, she settled for a 'Fine' that nevertheless managed to convey perfectly what she thought about the matter. It would have to do for now and at least she had made sure Thorin knew what she was thinking, not that he could particularly care about that, she wagered. It was more for her own peace of mind that she had put up some very mild form of resistance for the sake of putting up resistance.

Fíli and Kíli themselves did not seem to be too happy about going out. Fíli's hand was remarkably close to his weapon, although he never really touched it and Kíli kept shooting glances around him as if he was afraid someone could sneak up on them any minute. It spelled the situation out quite clearly for Kate. Relations with the people of Bree were tense. She got that. The reason was still not any clearer.

'Where did you want to go?' Fíli was the first one to get a grip on himself and go back to pretending that everything was completely normal.

'Somewhere I can buy some decent clothes for on the road,' Kate replied. 'A good cloak too, if my budget's sufficient.' She glanced down at her hiking shoes. They were great for hiking trips, but the first rainfall two days ago had made it clear that they could not keep out the water indefinitely. The shoes were waterproof enough, but they did nothing to prevent the rain from leaking in via drops falling from the ends of her trousers. 'And boots too if I can find them.'

Kíli merely nodded. 'This way.'

_Not even one single quip about how that's necessary after the wet socks?_ Now it was official that something was not quite right. She was once again tempted to just ask, but she did not know her companions quite well enough yet to be sure if they would appreciate her asking about such possibly quite painful things very much. She somehow doubted that they would appreciate it.

She would find out, she swore, just not by asking. She had always been rather curious and it annoyed her that she did not know everything about this. There was nothing like an unsolved mystery to keep her up at night, which was part of the reason why she didn't read any detective novels before going to bed, and at the moment she would probably take anything that would distract her from the rather unpleasant and frustrating topic of how to get out of this world as soon as she could.

She followed the brothers, who kept up a pace that made Kate almost forced to run after them, to a small tailor's shop three streets away from the inn. It looked old and dark, but it was neat and well looked after, Kate decided on first glance. The dark should not surprise her, she supposed. There were no houses bathed in light around here, not even when the sun was shining.

Kate was already on her way to the door when she realised that the brothers were not following her. 'You're not coming?' She turned around.

Fíli shook his head. 'No, that would not be a very good idea. Just go, Miss Andrews. We'll wait here.'

He almost seemed nervous and it took Kate a lot of self-restraint to not demand an explanation on the spot. It wouldn't work anyway. Dwarves were stubborn oysters when it came to sharing information and, like the oysters, they remained completely unmoved in the face of the pearl catcher's – or information seeker's – frustration as they refused to open up a bit. She could only hope that the town's people were a little more talkative.

'If you're sure?' It came out as a question. Going into a shop in a strange world alone was hardly the worst thing that could happen here, but it did make her nervous. She had no idea how things were done around here and she did not know about prices and the cost of things either. This could very well end up in disaster, but trying to convince Thorin's nephews to come with her and help out was a battle she would be doomed to lose.

The shop was not empty. There was one man in his fifties in the back of it working on what looked like a tunic. Well, it did mean that she was in the right place. That was something. Now she just had to get what she needed.

'Good afternoon?' she called.

The man looked up. 'Good afternoon, miss. How can I help you?' The tailor got up from his stool and moved a little closer. The expression on his face was puzzled, Kate decided. Another mystery, it would seem.

'I am looking for decent clothes for travelling,' Kate replied. 'You do have them, don't you?' She tried to make it sound like she knew what she was doing perfectly, but she had the idea she was failing rather badly at that, because she did not have a clue what the customs around here were.

'Yes, yes, I do,' the tailor said. He was looking more confused with each passing second. 'I may need to have a few things adjusted, miss. It's not every day a young woman such as yourself comes asking for these things.'

_I would imagine not. No gender equality in these parts, that's for sure_. Kate watched as the man bustled around the shop to look for things she had been asking for. If she looked over her shoulder through the window, she could see her companions-gone-glorified-bodyguards looking highly uncomfortable, trying and failing to make it look like they had every right to be where they were. They were not fooling Kate and they were not fooling any passers-by either. _This might well turn into the most awkward experience I've had in years._

The shop owner returned to her with some garments that looked like they had been made for a man at least twice her size as if to confirm her thought. 'I am afraid I do not have anything smaller, miss,' he told her.

Kate bit her lip. If she was going to walk in those trousers she would surely trip over the garment multiple times within the minute. 'Could you possibly adjust them a little?' she inquired, hoping that she did not sound too hopeful. If this was the best she could hope for, then maybe sticking with her own clothes was not such a bad idea after all.

The tailor nodded. 'Naturally. When will you be needing them?' He was undoubtedly polite, too polite. Kate suspected it was just a mask to hide his own confusion behind.

'I'll be leaving tomorrow at first light,' she replied. 'Could you do that?'

Another nod was her reply, although only a blind man could have missed out on the not very happy expression that went with it. And if he was going to work all night, then that was understandable, she imagined. Well, at least he got to stay in his house with a hearth while she would soon have to trek through the wilderness.

'I'll have to take your measurements, miss. You will be able to collect the clothes before you leave.' The reply was curt now.

'I would be very grateful,' Kate said. And she was, even if it was currently overshadowed by confusion and awkwardness. _Oh, go ahead, just ask_. 'I may be bold to ask, sir, but is there something amiss?'

The tailor looked like he was not going to answer that question for a second, but then he changed his mind. 'I would feel more at ease if I knew that a young woman such as yourself would not venture out into the wild on her own,' he admitted, being equally frank with her as she had been with him.

Ah, that was the matter. Well, at least she could put his mind at rest about that one. 'I won't be going alone. I am with a group of dwarves currently staying at the inn.'

Or maybe not, she observed as the tailor's eyes all but popped out of their sockets in shock. 'Dwarves?'

_Did I speak Chinese?_ 'Yes,' she said, sensing an opportunity to ask a few more questions. He looked properly horrified now and in her experience people didn't really think much about their words when they had just had a good fright. This tailor had just gotten one. 'Is something the matter with that?'

She may have asked that a little too sharply, because the man instantly realised that he may have crossed a line that was not supposed to be crossed. 'Nothing much, miss,' he replied.

_Nothing much always means that there's very much_. Kate was no fool, no matter what her new companions seemed to think. 'So, there is something,' she probed. 'Sir, please. I'd like to know what I can before I venture off into the wild with them.' That might help him to loosen his tongue a bit.

He looked every inch as uncomfortable as Kate felt. 'I'd just advise you to keep a close eye on your valuables,' he said after a lengthy period of hesitation in which he pretended to be busy with her yet to be purchased clothes. 'And to keep a knife close at night,' he added after another half-minute.

That was all she got out of him. He too seemed to be practising his oyster skills and no amount of probing could tempt him into saying another word on the matter, keeping the conversation, such as it was, on strictly the clothes and the payment. That would dent her budget rather badly, but at least she would get what she needed and she would have enough left to buy a pair of boots at his neighbour's shop.

She ventured there next. Fíli and Kíli remained outside again, the shopkeeper was shocked that she seemed of a mind to travel with dwarves – Kate left out the involuntary part of the journey for fear he would drop dead; he did not look very healthy already – but would not say more about the reason why he was so shocked, effectively making sure that by the time the dwarves and the advisor returned to the inn, she was in a right foul mood, even though she had been able to get what she had set out to get. Fíli and Kíli were not much happier and seemed to have turned into younger versions of their uncle when it came to talking habits.

_What a mess_. Kate dumped her purchases in her room. She had never been the kind of woman who actually liked shopping and admiring her new clothes and she was now in even less of a mood for such nonsense than she normally was.

At least she had gotten some clues as to why the people here disliked dwarves so much. Just plain old prejudice caused by not knowing anything about another people at all. Racism was obviously not something her world had the monopoly on. The people here seemed to think that the dwarves were greedy – although that might be true to some extent, especially when Nori came into the picture – and would take advantage of her at the earliest opportunity, hence the advice to keep a knife on her person at night.

People were hypocrites, she had to conclude. Dwarves were apparently welcome enough when they came to fix a farmer's equipment or forge a good sword for a man, but when they came as guests, they were about as welcome as orcs because of some apparently deeply rooted prejudices about stealing, which would explain why Thorin had been asked to pay in advance. Was the innkeeper really afraid they would leave without paying?

Was it just something that was caused by ignorance? Kate had no idea, but it was starting to annoy her. Of course it didn't take much for her to be annoyed these days. Her temper had been short ever since she had come to realise that her hiking trip would involve a lot more kilometres than she had anticipated and was unlikely to be concluded in the two weeks the brochure had offered, never mind the fact that aforementioned hiking trip was not even taking place in her own world.

She rubbed her forehead, fighting the beginnings of a mild headache. She wanted to be home more than anything, but that was unlikely to happen, much as she tried to keep that rather unwelcome notion out of her mind. The longer she stayed her, the more realism was starting to sink in. Kate wished it didn't.

She left her things in her room and went down to get something to eat when her stomach started growling so loudly it could no longer be ignored. And she would be a fool not to eat a decent meal when she had a chance for it, even if that meant she had to seek out the company again. There was just no helping it. Well, if they were being unsociable, she saw no reason why she would try and make small talk.

The inn was slowly starting to fill with people, but it was not very busy and all the guests seemed to keep their distance from the large table in the corner, where Thorin's company had assembled. They were already eating, so Kate supposed she would need to make sure she got some supper by herself. Oh well, what had she been expecting? That Thorin would be as considerate as to make sure she ate? Hell would have to freeze over before that happened.

And so she made her way to the innkeeper. He was washing some of the empty tankards, but he looked up when he caught sight of her. 'How may I help you, miss?' he asked politely. He sounded and looked almost exact the same as the tailor. Kate sincerely hoped he didn't share his concerns.

'My friends seem to have started dinner without me,' she observed. 'I was wondering if you would have something for me?' _And please save me from any sodding worries about my company. _Kate may be none too eager to travel with a company of loud, usually far too cheerful, prejudiced and arrogant dwarves, but that didn't mean she liked all these looks either. The dwarves were a lot of things, but Kate didn't think she was in danger of having her possessions stolen and getting killed. That was just plain ridiculous and the notion that prejudices here were just as strong as they were at home, did not make her like this place any better.

At first the man seemed to comply with her wishes. He turned around and got her a plate of steaming hot stew that made Kate's stomach growl even louder in a rather embarrassing way. 'There you go, lass,' he told her. 'And don't hesitate to ask if there's anything you need.'

His friendliness tempted Kate into a smile. 'I'll be fine,' she informed him. 'But I'll keep it in mind. Thank you. You are very kind.' She was still pissed off, but it would be very bad manners indeed if she were to take that out on this man. It was not as if he could help her problems and he wasn't the cause of them either. That honour was Gandalf's and his alone.

He shook his head at her. 'Do you have to go with them dwarves, lass?' he asked. 'If you need a place to stay, I am sure we could find something for you in town.'

Kate frowned. 'Why would I want to stay here?' she asked bluntly. It may be too blunt, but she did not like the direction this conversation was taking.

'They're dwarves, miss.' The sentence was spoken as if it was an explanation in and out of itself, which to him perhaps it was. 'You don't know what they're like.'

_As a matter of fact, I think I do. Arrogant, taciturn, unsociable and at least as prejudiced against women and hobbits as you lot are against them. Same old, same old._

The innkeeper looked at her intently with what appeared to be fatherly concern. 'I want you to know that you have a choice. Gandalf is a good fellow, but I don't know about his companions.'

_That makes two of us_, Kate thought wryly. Some stupid sentimental part of her was touched at the concern of a complete stranger and tempted too. Heaven knew that she wanted a way out of this and that seemed to be what was offered here. She wouldn't have to go through an entire quest that she had not even chosen herself. She might get out of it before it had even properly started.

_But then how will you get home?_ As it was, she had a deal with Gandalf that he would let her return to her world as soon as the quest was done. And she wanted to get home even more than she wanted to get out of this blasted quest. Staying here in Bree would not get her home. Even worse, it might just ensure that she never got anywhere near home again. That was not what she wanted. _So you take one day at a time, set one foot in front of the other and eventually this _will_ be over. Stop being such an enormous coward, Andrews._

'They're decent,' she therefore replied. Depending on what your definition of decent was, that was not entirely a lie. 'Don't worry. I'm travelling with them of my own free will. I do have a choice.' She didn't, but it would not do to burden him with all the ins and outs of her tale. Provided he didn't get a heart attack first, she was not sure how much he would believe of it. It sounded insane even to Kate, and she had been the one to whom it had all happened.

'I just wanted to make sure if you're certain,' the innkeeper said. He was staring at her as if he thought she had lost her mind though.

Maybe she had. 'I am,' she said. 'But thank you for your concern.'

She took up her plate and left, feeling a little bad with herself for lying to someone who had been trying to be kind to her. But what other choice did she have if she ever wanted to see her family and friends again? There was none and so she took a deep breath and marched over to the company's table. Time to face the music. Who knows, if the dwarves kept consuming alcohol at that rate, that might even be literally.

* * *

**The reaction to this story has completely taken me by surprise, really! I'll try to do something about the kids next and I am working on something from Kate's past as well (thanks to **_**Ifbookswerefood**_** for the suggestion) but if you have suggestions, don't be afraid to throw them my way.**

**And reviews would mean the world, so if you have a moment, I'd love to hear what you thought about this one.**


	3. Chapter 3 Overheated

**This chapter combined two requests. **_**Gaia-drea**_** asked for Kate having a fight with Nai and **_**SMCB**_** asked for the story where Thráin and Jack almost drowned. The heat we've had around here provided the final inspiration, so here is the result!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**Overheated**

"_My companion did not look too pleased with the way things were going either; if he had directed that scowl at me I think I would have run for the hills without as much as a second thought. And I think Thráin and Jack know exactly how your father looked that day. I swear that he had exactly the same look on his face after we had saved you two from the River Running after you had decided it was so hot that you would go for a swim, even when you didn't know how to swim at all._"

The Journal, chapter 35: Shady Business

**Erebor, summer 2962 TA**

**Kate**

Once upon a time Queen under the Mountain, Queen Catherine, had believed that she would never get used to living underground. She didn't think she'd like being cut off from any natural source of light and the warmth of the sun. Thorin, bless him, had been understanding and had made sure their quarters were on the southeast end of the Mountain, where they had chambers with windows and a large balcony to sit on. The old royal quarters had been reduced to rubble by the dragon anyway and by the time those were finally inhabitable again, the population had gotten used to the king and queen living where they lived.

Today however the influx of sunlight was a bother to Kate. The region was suffering from a heat wave, which was unusual this far north, but the year as a whole had been warmer than usual. In cases like this, living underground was a blessing, because the Mountain itself was cool and an altogether pleasant place to be these days. Kate's quarters, with all their windows, were boiling. On days like these she hated the dwarven dress code with a passion and she missed the summer dresses she would have worn at home instead of the long-sleeved heavy dresses that made her sweat if she lifted as much as a finger. On days like these she was almost prepared to throw propriety to the wind and have the royal seamstress make one such summer dress anyway, and consequences be damned. But she was a queen now and giving into her whims was not something she could get away with any longer, especially not since she was supposed to be meeting with some men from Dale in an hour to discuss repairs on the road between Erebor and their city.

'Give back! It's mine!' Cathy may be a very shy girl, but when her siblings did something she did not like, she had a good pair of lungs she was not afraid to use.

'I had it first.' When Kate turned around she saw her youngest son clutching Cathy's favourite toy to his chest with an expression that betrayed he was not going to let it go. The owner of said toy stood in front of him with her arms folded over her chest in a manner that reminded Kate a lot of Thorin, because of the facial expression and the downright icy stare she unleashed on her twin brother.

In any other situation Kate might have been amused, but not today. The twins had been bickering all morning over practically nothing and that, in combination with the altogether far too hot weather, had made Kate's patience practically non-existent. _Mahal protect me from any more arguing this day_. 'Jack, give the toy back to your sister,' she said wearily.

'She wasn't playing with it!' Jack protested, righteous indignity written all over his face.

'We had an agreement,' Kate reminded him sternly, trying to keep her temper in check. This weather was not her son's fault and she should not take her own annoyance with it out on him. Her own father had done that quite enough when she was a child. 'No taking of Cathy's toys, not even when she was not playing with it. You were only to play with them if she allowed it. Did you ask?'

'No, but…' He looked defensive now.

'Then you give it back,' Kate ordered. '_Now_, Jack.' Cathy fortunately was not the only one who had mastered Thorin's laser look over the years. Kate now unleashed it on her child to make him obey and thank goodness that it worked. The last thing she could use today was a temper tantrum from one of the twins. She tried to remember if Jacko and she had been that bad when they were children, but she didn't think so.

As always the thought of her brother sent a stab of pain through her. Kate did not regret the choice she'd made, but the feeling of being torn in half never truly faded. It was the price she'd had to pay for the life she lived now. And it certainly did not help that Jack sometimes looked so much like his namesake that, had she not known better, she could have thought she was looking at a younger Jacko instead of the nephew he had never seen, would never even know existed.

She might have lost herself in very unwelcome sentiment if someone had not snapped her out of it by knocking on the door. 'Oh, for Durin's sake,' she muttered under her breath as she turned to let in the visitor. Ten to one it would be someone who wanted Thorin for something, but her husband had taken Thoren on an inspection of a new mining shaft and would probably not be back for ages. She had said the same thing over and over again for most of the past few hours.

It turned out things could be even worse when she opened the door and found herself staring at the dwarf woman who might be now very well called her archenemy, Lady Nai, her biggest headache ever since they had first met. 'Good afternoon,' she forced herself to say.

Nai's face twisted in a smile that was so obviously fake that Kate wondered if the woman expected anyone to believe it at all. 'My lady,' she said. She stubbornly refused to refer to Kate as her queen, because she did not think a daughter of the race of Men was meant to be ruling a far superior race such as her own.

Kate ignored the insult in disguise and repaid her in kind. 'Nai,' she acknowledged, stripping the dwarf lady of her title, so that she was still highest in rank here. She may not be as old as this dwarf woman, would never be that old, but she had been roaming the world of shady politics and verbal backstabbing long enough to have learned a few tricks. 'How can I help you today?'

Judging by the look she got for her troubles, Nai knew exactly what Kate was doing. 'I would have a word with you,' she said haughtily.

Kate suppressed the urge to slam the door in her face. 'I am sure that can be arranged,' she replied with as much fake friendliness as she could muster. 'One minute please.' If she was going to have a catfight with Lady Nai, then not in front of her children. 'Thráin!' she called to her son, who was studying some old maps he had gotten from the library, in the corner of the room. 'Take Jack and Cathy outside. The weather's far too nice to spend your time inside.'

Thráin may be nearly eighteen years old, but he could be as much of a rebelling adolescent as he ever was, scowling at his mother with that look of pure boredom he had perfected ever since puberty had first kicked in. 'I am busy, _amad_.'

_So am I_. 'These maps will still be there come evening,' she reminded him. 'Go outside, Thráin.'

Her son was in no mood to obey. 'Can't Duria watch them?' he all but pleaded.

'Duria is out,' Kate said. Probably with Narvi too. 'And I wasn't asking.' She was all too aware that Nai was watching and that she would use everything she thought was wrong with Kate's parenting skills as ammunition in the fight their conversation would doubtlessly end up in. '_Now_, Thráin,' she told him.

He may be as stubborn as his father sometimes, but he was blessed with a little common sense. He even listened to it every now and then. Today was either a now or a then fortunately. 'It's Duria's turn next time,' he said, putting up some resistance for the sake of putting up resistance, something he could not have inherited from his father, but that sure was a trait that ran in the family, on mother's side.

'We'll see about that,' Kate said.

Her son knew that was the best he could hope for and so he departed, scooping up Cathy with one arm and taking Jack's hand with the other. They had been wanting to go outside for hours, but had been unable to because their aunt Dís was on a journey to the Iron Hills and Kate herself had been cooped up in here, working her way through a stack of reports she was supposed to have read ages ago. Whoever thought it was fun being royalty, had better think again.

'You are very stern with your children,' Nai observed with an underlying tone of malice the moment the door closed behind Thráin.

'How I raise my children is my concern,' Kate reacted sharply. _Yours might certainly benefit from a sterner upbringing, if only half of the stories I've heard about them are true_. Dalin and Halin were both several years older than Cathy and Jack, and the Mountain's very own nightmare. Their mother let them get away with everything. They played pranks on everyone and they were not all in good nature. People got hurt and Kate for one couldn't wait till the day they finally came of age, so that the law at least could properly punish them for it, since their mother failed so spectacularly in that duty. 'It is none of your business. What are you here for, if I may be so bold to ask? I'm afraid I have very little time today, as I have very many duties to see to.' _And only about three quarters of an hour before I need to go_. She may not like such a meeting, but she would choose it over a discussion with Nai any time.

'It is about your daughter Duria,' Nai said and Kate mentally braced herself. 'It has come to my attention that she is spending an awful lot of time around a dwarf of common birth.'

That was what this was about? Kate had thought she'd had this conversation with Thorin one too many times already. She had not believed she would be having it with Nai. 'Narvi, son of Bombur, aye,' she nodded. At least Thorin had not gone on and on about his birth, more about the age difference, because Narvi was a good ten years older than the girl he was courting. 'Again I'd like to emphasise the fact that my personal life or that of my children is of no concern to you. If this is all you came to tell me, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. There are quite a lot of things that need my urgent attention.'

Nai's eyes narrowed. 'The lad is not of noble birth,' she pointed out venomously.

'Narvi's father was one of the companions who took back Erebor for our people,' Kate shot back. 'While you and your husband were holed up in the Iron Hills until the Mountain was ours again, if my memory serves me correctly. I think the term _noble birth_ may be in desperate need of redefinition.' It was hard not to explode. She was feeling criminally overheated and by now the temperature of her blood started to match it, if for different reasons entirely. The Queen under the Mountain was not quite sure how much more insult she could take. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.' It was as clear a dismissal as she could give without physically removing the other woman from the room, as her fingers were itching to do. Small wonder her sons were such nightmares; they had a good example of a mother to look up to.

Nai huffed, but if looks could kill, she'd have been arrested for regicide soon. 'Maybe you do not think this a shame, because you yourself have no noble blood in your veins.' All decorum had now been abandoned, as Kate had known it would. 'How could I have expected a farmer's daughter to understand?' she scoffed.

_Lawyer's daughter actually_. Of course Nai could not know that, as Thorin and she had gone with the story of Kate being from Bree to simplify matters somewhat. The situation was strange and complicated enough as it was and not everyone needed to know the truth of her background, especially not judgemental people like Nai, daughter of Nali.

But this last poisonous remark caused Kate's already very tried temper to snap. '_Out_,' she growled in a low voice to which Duria had once referred to as mama's run-and-hide voice. Kate wouldn't mind if Nai did exactly that. '_Now_.'

It didn't work. 'Does the truth hurt?' she smirked.

The queen had to remind herself that punching the woman would be very unqueenly behaviour indeed. Instead she pulled herself up to her full length so that she was towering over the dwarf lady. On occasions like these, the height difference was nothing short of a blessing. 'Out,' she repeated, taking deep breaths to get herself back under control. 'Don't make me humiliate you by having to call the guard.' Nai didn't move. _Time for threats_. 'I believe Lufur is on duty today,' she went on. 'Wasn't it his boy that broke his leg last week because of some practical joke of your sons? None too pleased with it, he was.'

This time Nai's face did show panic rather than condescending disapproval. 'I won't forget this,' she snarled.

'Good,' Kate shot back. 'Neither will I.'

That too was a threat and Nai recognised it as one, if her hurry to get out of the room was any indication. Kate exhaled in relief as the door fell shut behind her. She'd be more relieved if she wasn't sure she would not be having another conversation before the week was out. _What a mess._

**Thráin**

Thráin had to remind himself that he was no longer a child who could get away with throwing a temper tantrum when something was not to his liking. Not that he had ever been able to get away with it. His mother might occasionally overlook it, but his father had always been stern on such matters, lecturing him on how such behaviour was unbecoming of a prince of Durin's line, especially when aforementioned prince was second in line for the throne.

He had no interest in thrones however, which was why it was a good thing he was not the eldest. Thoren was being prepared, had been prepared, for such a role from the moment he could walk and he would be good at it as well, Thráin guessed. He himself couldn't wait until he was old enough to travel on his own so that he could explore the world. This of course was very unbecoming of a dwarf of Durin's line as well, as Lady Nai and her annoying friends never failed to remind his mother. Strangely enough it was his mother who defended him, saying that the king himself had spent many years of his life wandering Middle Earth. Would they perhaps imply that they were condemning his behaviour as well? That at least had made them back off quickly enough.

His mother had not been defending him today however and now he was stuck with the twins. Cathy had tired and had fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder, thumb stuck in her mouth, completely unaware of what was going on around her. She could be so easy to watch. She never whined, not with him anyway, because he was her favourite big brother, a title Thráin was secretly proud of, even if it would not impress anyone else very much.

Jack was another matter entirely, far more like Thráin himself. He was jumping with excitement at going outside. As much as a punishment it was to his older brother, it was a reward to him. Their mother insisted he was not to go outside the Mountain on his own, but she almost never had time to go with him and with his father and brother busy inspecting the mines – something he was very glad he didn't need to do – his aunt Dís on travel and Duria having a picnic with Narvi somewhere, the task of babysitting his youngest siblings fell to Thráin.

And he didn't like it. He had promised himself he would spend the day looking at the maps he had found in the library and it was far too hot now to be out here anyway. They had hardly left the Mountain and he felt the sweat trickling down his back already. Jack didn't seem to notice. He was bouncing up and down, smiling so widely it was a miracle his face had not split in half already.

'So, what do you want to do?' he asked, hoping it would not involve spending more time in the very hot sun. Dwarves may have been granted a lot of endurance by Mahal, but Thráin had a lingering suspicion the Maker may have forgotten to add resistance to sunburns to that list. It was either that or his human blood that was to blame for the painful burns he had gotten two summers ago after Thoren and he had accidentally spent a day and a night on the slopes of the Mountain because they had gotten lost and couldn't find the front gate anymore.

'We can fight with sticks?' Jack tilted his head and gave Thráin the full benefits of his best begging puppy look.

'_Amad_ will kill us both if she catches us.' The illegality of such an act added to its allure, but today he was firmly of the opinion that it was just too hot for anything that was physically demanding. Dwarves were used to the heat of fires, which was a dry kind of heat. This was something else entirely. 'And she has a sixth sense for detecting trouble too.' No matter what excuses Thoren and he used to think up, she had never believed any of them, no matter how plausible. And with his mother's patience already at an all-time low, it would be best not to risk it.

Jack's face fell. 'Racing?' he suggested next.

Thráin started to sweat at the mere idea. 'No,' he said.

His eyes wandered over the surroundings, hoping he might get any ideas from that, because he did feel a little bad about dismissing all his younger brother's ideas without a moment's thought. The thing was that it was just too hot for just about any game Thoren and he used to play at that age, because all of them involved jumping and running and he was not about to do that now. His gaze finally fell on the river. There was a strong current and neither of them could swim – dwarves weren't made to be on or in water, after all, although that excuse never worked when their mother tried to make them take a bath – but it wasn't deep here and the water would be cool. Cool sounded just about right to him now.

'We're going into the river,' he announced. There was a nice bush on the shore that provided shade, under which he could lay down his sister. He doubted she'd wake now that she was sleeping so peacefully. That only left Jack to look out for and if he held him at all times, no harm could come to him. And they would at least both cool down a bit.

It had been the right thing to say, because Jack's face lit up instantly. 'Can we?' he asked excitedly.

Thráin nodded. 'Of course.'

Jack frowned. 'Won't _amad_ be mad?'

_Quite possibly_. But he would get the full benefits of her anger. And it was not as if his parents' anger had ever stopped him from breaking rules. With the sweat covering his entire body, their anger seemed worth it. 'Not as long as I am with you,' he lied. 'But you'll have to listen to me very well and do exactly as I say, do you understand?' He waited for the confirming nod before he continued. 'You will hold my hand and not let go and when I say we're going out again, you will come without protest.'

Jack didn't like that, but he nodded.

'Good,' Thráin said. 'Let's go.'

He laid Cathy on the ground and made a pillow of his tunic. It was not as if he would need that for the next few hours. They laid their clothes there as well and then took off towards the river. Jack was holding Thráin's hand and was smiling and bouncing up and down still. The older brother had a distinct suspicion he might soon be promoted to favourite big brother for him as well.

The water was cold on his feet and legs as he stepped in, but it was a relief as well and he welcomed the cold. It felt like he could finally breathe again after all that stifling heat of the last few weeks. Jack did not seem to mind either. He jumped up and down, thoroughly enjoying the splashes of water he caused. The water was not deep at all and so Thráin sat down so that he got more of his body beneath the surface. Apart from the fact that he was stark naked and being seen like that would be frowned upon, it was also very pleasant. He held on to Jack's hand, but then leaned back until his face was below the surface, to ensure all of his body got to enjoy the water.

When he resurfaced Jack grinned up at him. 'Can I do that too?'

_Amad's going to kill me_. But he was doing so well and it was obvious that Jack suddenly liked him a whole lot better than he did before. That could come in handy later. And besides, he didn't think there was anyone who could say no to that dazzling smile. 'Of course,' he therefore said. 'But you must come up again soon and you must hold your breath,' he instructed.

His younger brother frowned. 'Why?'

Thráin tried and failed to bite back an amused smile. 'Because dwarves can't breathe under water,' he explained. 'Only fishes can do that.'

Jack processed that information. 'Oh,' he said eventually. 'I see.'

This time he had to let out a bark of laughter. Jack didn't understand at all, but it was always very funny to see him try to act like an adult. 'Of course you do,' he said indulgently. 'Well, do you want to try?'

The boy nodded eagerly.

'Come sit down next to me then,' he said.

Jack made to obey, but he must have slipped, because suddenly he fell. The force of it made Thráin accidentally let go of his brother's hand, which he had been holding only very loosely, because holding on tightly didn't seem all that necessary before. But now the current grabbed his brother and dragged him away from Thráin.

He was on his feet right away. 'Jack!' he shouted. He could see his brother's head, but there was no reply forthcoming and the panic gripped him by the throat. Maker be good, this could not be happening. But it was and he had to do something or else Jack would die. Thráin could not swim, but he could not sit back either and so he did the only thing he could do. He did not allow himself a moment to think and dove into the water.

**Thorin**

Thorin was glad that he could return to his own quarters after the inspection of the mines. It was one of those things he needed to do and it was good to see the work with his own eyes, so that he knew the facts and progress for himself, but he could do without the inane babbling their guide had treated them with. Garin was very knowledgeable about the mines, no one would deny that, but his mouth didn't stop moving for a single second and the worst thing about it was that Thorin already knew everything he said, or at least almost everything.

Thoren looked no less relieved to be out of there than Thorin felt, even if he did well try to hide it. The King under the Mountain sometimes regretted the need to shape his eldest son into a dwarf that was fit to rule. He remembered a young boy running around Erebor with his brother, making mischief as they went. It was as if with every day that passed, a little of that carefree boy slipped away, leaving a dutiful son and heir in his place and Thorin hated the need for it.

Because Thoren might not have it easy when one day he would become King under the Mountain. The one thing Thorin did not doubt was that he was well suited to the position, because his son was clever, responsible – at least the last few years – and cared for the people he would one day rule. It was mainly the fact that not all those people cared for Thoren that worried his father. It was not too surprising that not everyone wanted a king on the throne of Erebor who was only half a dwarf and had a human woman for a mother. Something like that had never happened and there were quite a few dwarves who would rather see a more distant branch of the Durin line in power than the rightful heir. Thoren had a lot to prove, simply because he existed and Thorin hated it that, although he was the king, it was not within his powers to change this.

'Did you understand all Garin said?' Thorin asked.

His son nodded. 'Aye.' The mask of the dutiful heir slipped for a moment and Thoren's face revealed a boyish grin. 'But he sure does talk an awful lot.'

The king found it impossible to argue with that. 'That he does.' He opened the door to their chambers and stepped inside. The room was deserted except for Kate, who was sitting at her desk, working her way through a stack of parchments with a deep frown etched onto her forehead. 'We're back,' he announced.

The queen looked up, sending him a sarcastic smile, not so very unlike the one their son had just displayed. 'So I noticed,' she commented. 'Garin was his charming self again?'

'How do you know?' Thoren asked.

Kate grinned. 'Because the two of you look absolutely miserable. Besides, it's not as if his mouth ever stops moving. His wife says he even talks in his sleep, so if he can't even stop chattering at night, what makes you think he will do it during daytime?'

Mother and son shared a laugh, while Thorin looked around the room. He had half been expected to be cuddled to death by his youngest daughter, but Cathy and her twin were nowhere in sight. 'Where are the children?'

'Thráin has taken the twins outside,' Kate replied. 'They were bickering all morning already and I needed a bit of peace and quiet to work.'

Thorin smiled. The twins could be a handful, even shy little Cathy from time to time. And they had started causing trouble from even within the womb, so that surely set the tone for the rest of their lives.

He was just about to comment on her remark when a panicked voice came in through the window. 'Jack!' And Thorin had no trouble recognising Thráin's voice.

Kate swore and rushed out to the balcony with Thorin on her heels. They were just in time to see their son dive into the river. Jack was nowhere in sight and neither was Cathy. Thorin's heart stopped and for just a moment the panic overwhelmed him.

'Mahal be good,' Kate whispered in shock. 'None of them can swim.'

He heard the unadulterated terror in her voice and that snapped him out of it. He could not just stand here and watch his children drown. He turned on his heels and broke into a run, using his intimate knowledge of the Mountain and its many shortcuts to navigate his way to the gate. The voice of realism told him that he was most likely going to be too late, but he squashed it, instead pouring every last reserve of energy into running. That may be looking rather unkingly, but his dignity could go to hell, as his wife could phrase it so eloquently phrase it. He wasn't sure whether it was the physical strain he put on his body or the fear for his childrens' life that made his heart beat as frantically as it did, but he could not care. His mind was all too quick to provide him with the images of the three of them lying dead, drowned in the River Running.

He could hear footsteps behind him and suspected his wife and son had followed him, but he did not look back to make sure. He had no time for that. His boys' lives were in danger.

The guards at the gate gave him strange looks, but Thorin paid them no heed. He merely ran for the river, scanning it for any sign of Thráin and the twins as he went. _Mahal, please let them live. Mahal, please let them live. _The words became a mantra in his head, drowning out any other sound and thought. He did not care that a king should not behave in such a way. If there were consequences, he would face them later.

His heart and hopes sank as he scanned the river and saw no sign of any of his children. Was he already too late?

'Thráin! Jack! Cathy!' Kate cried out. Thorin knew his wife. She tried to keep in control of her voice, but this was a cry from the heart and the panic seeped through.

Thoren and Thorin's voices joined in, but with each time their cries went unanswered, Thorin's hopes were dashed a little further. He ran along the shores of the river, still looking out, still hoping that by some miracle the boys would have found refuge on the other side.

'Father!' When he heard Thráin's voice it was like water to a man dying of thirst, inappropriate though that comparison may be.

Thorin swivelled his head around and spotted his son in the middle of the river, holding on to a lump of rock in the middle of it for dear life with one arm, whilst clinging Jack to him with the other. Jack was not moving, but his eyes were wide open with fear. Thráin was in better control of his facial expression, but Thorin knew his son. He was scared as well and worse than he let on.

But while the relief washed over him, he could not fail to notice that Cathy was not with them and Kate had said that she had sent all three of them outside. A stab of pain went through him. He loved all his children, but Cathy was his youngest, his little girl, who curled up on his lap to fall asleep, who stayed up long past her bedtime when he was late or simply walked all the way to his study to bid him goodnight. The thought of losing her made him almost incapable of moving.

But his sons were still alive and he could rescue them. 'I'm coming for you!' he shouted back over the sound of the rushing water. He banished the thought that this rushing water could carry both his children away in a heartbeat, long before he would be able to get to them. Instead he stripped to tunic and breeches and kicked away his boots. During the years of his exile he had learned to swim, even if he did not particularly like it. He thanked Mahal he had taken the time nonetheless. 'Stay where you are and hold on.' He waited until Thráin had responded with a tentative nod, before he turned to Thoren. 'Run along the river,' he ordered. 'Find your sister.' _Find her alive_.

Thoren was already running and the king wasted no more time; he dove in and began to make his way to the rock. The current was strong, but he would have to be stronger. He could not afford to lose, not with the boys' lives at stake.

In the end he was almost thrown against the boulder. The breath was knocked from his body, but he had made it. 'Give Jack to me,' he ordered Thráin, his tone of voice curt and snappy as a result of the tension. 'I'll bring him to the shore and then come back for you. Can you hold on for that long?' The concern showed all the same.

Thráin may be young still and foolish too, but he was a fighter. 'I can,' he said, trying to make it convincing. He handed Jack to his father, but held on to the rock tightly as he did so.

Thorin took Jack in his arms. 'You were very brave,' he said, hoping to sound reassuring, even though that was not his strong point. 'Jack, hold on to me, but do not move. Do you understand?'

The boy's lip was trembling, but he managed to nod and he followed the instructions. The king jumped back in again and swam back to shore with strong strokes. Kate was waiting for him there and she took Jack from him the moment they came within reach, clutching him to her chest. 'Thank God you're safe.'

Thorin shared the sentiment, but he did not allow himself to feel relief just yet. Thráin was still out there and Cathy was still missing. The time for relief was not yet, if it ever came, which by now he sincerely started to doubt. He dove back in again and swam back. The current was trying to drag him with it again, but he resisted and kept on going, because there was no other alternative. Thráin was still holding on, but Thorin had seen fatigue in more soldiers than he cared to count and he could surely recognise the signs in his own flesh and blood. He was holding on by sheer strength of will, but not much else.

'I've got you,' he said as his arms slipped around the lad. 'No harm will come to you, I promise. Let go, son.' He knew it sounded like he was talking to Jack instead of his older son, but Thráin was deep down nothing more than a frightened boy and the tone of voice seemed to work.

He swam back again and dragged them both to land. Thráin was trembling and close to crying as well, Thorin suspected, even if he held the tears back bravely. The lad had an iron will, something he may have inherited from both Thorin and Kate.

Kate now knelt down next to him. 'Are you all right?' she all but demanded. 'Where is Cathy?' The worry for her just rescued son and the fear for her still missing daughter were warring for dominance and it showed.

Thráin coughed, expelling some water from his lungs. 'Upstream,' he panted. 'Sleeping under a bush.'

This time he let the relief was over him in waves far more powerful than the ones he had just come through. His children were all alive and relatively well. There was the shock to deal with, but that they could handle. For now he was just glad to have his family back.

Kate was already beyond the relief. Anger was clouding her eyes now. 'What the hell were you thinking?' she scolded. 'Both of you! You can't even swim, for Durin's sake!' Had Thorin not shared the sentiment, he may have been amused at the way his wife mixed curses from both her own world and those of Durin's Folk, but not today. 'Have you lost your mind?'

Thráin was wrapping Thorin's discarded coat around him, as much to warm up as to conceal the fact that he was wearing nothing underneath. 'I thought it was too warm, so we went into the river to cool off,' he explained. 'We were staying to the shallow parts, I swear, but then Jack tripped and…'

But Thorin was not listening any longer. Before now he had hardly spared it a moment's thought how the boys had ended up where they had, because he had been too preoccupied rescuing them to ask any questions, but now the relief turned to anger effortlessly and his face twisted into something Kate referred to as Thorin's laser look. 'You went into a strong-current river while you couldn't even swim?'

He had hoped that Thráin had learned some common sense by now, but it would seem that would not grace the lad for some years. But at least Thorin could lecture him on his behaviour and that was exactly what he did.

* * *

**Life is going to be pretty chaotic for a few weeks, including holidays and work, so I cannot say when the next update will be, as my main focus will be on The Journal and Operation Wandless. I'll try to squeeze in a chapter when I have the chance though.**

**In the meantime, please review?**


	4. Chapter 4 Letters to Jacko

**Hello everyone, I was planning to write a suggestion from one of you, but I did not have very much time for it and these little snippets are mostly written in trains and between other activities. Don't worry, I will get to your requests eventually. In the meantime, I hope you'll enjoy this.**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**Letters to Jacko**

"_He should have known it too. Mahal knew how much she missed her home. In Beorn's house he had, accidentally mind, seen some letters addressed to her brother, letters that could never be sent."_

The Journal, chapter 52: Welcome

* * *

**Erebor, summer 3003 TA**

'Thoren, are you in here?'

Aforementioned King under the Mountain had a desperate wish to either call 'No!' or say nothing at all and just hope that Duria would pass and look for him somewhere else. This, however, was no behaviour that was becoming of a king, especially not a newly crowned king of Erebor who had to fight hard enough to be taken seriously in the first place because of his mixed blood.

'Here!' he called, sounding remarkably like an echo.

It was as if his sister had waited for him to call her in, because she entered the room approximately half a second later. 'I knew you were here.'

Thoren didn't look up. 'Then why did you ask?' He loved his younger sister, he really did. He just didn't like her mothering habits. She had done so since she was five years old and lectured Thráin and him on shirking their duties and breaking the rules. Since she always went by the rules herself, they never got the chance to call her out on it. Thráin had teasingly remarked that when her own son Dari was born she would have a child of her own to raise, but it had not stopped her from applying the same treatment to her older brothers apparently.

'You're always here.' Duria sounded a little more subdued now. 'And I don't think it's good for you,' she added. 'You can't keep clinging to their memories, Thoren. You are the king now and you have to take responsibility.'

He was tetchy. He knew it and he also knew that he could not lose his temper. It happened all the same. 'Pray tell me which crisis I have missed out on in my absence,' he snapped at her.

If Duria was impressed by that speech at all, she did a fine job of hiding it. 'I'm just worried about you.' She was toying with the braid in her beard, a clear sign that she was uneasy, as she should be. 'We all are, even Thráin and Jack. It's…' She hesitated, but then took a deep breath and went on. 'It's like you're refusing to accept that they're not here anymore and you're not moving on. Even Thráin says you're always wondering what father would have done or what mother would have said.'

Thoren wondered if he should be angry with his brother for betraying that to Duria, but then thought better of it. It was not as if any of them could keep a secret from Duria the Nosy once she started prying in affairs that didn't concern her. Her, however, he could be mad at. 'Then what else am I supposed to do?' he demanded of her. 'What other examples do I have? Or do you now propose I start to model my conduct on Thranduil?'

Duria looked positively scandalised and a little abashed. 'I didn't mean it like that!'

'Of course you didn't,' Thoren growled. And it was very well possible that was the truth. Duria meant well, which was why it was practically impossible to be angry with her for longer than a few hours.

'We're only worried,' she emphasised, throwing her arms up in the air. 'I mean, this is their room and you're spending a lot of time in it, lately.' Thoren correctly translated _lately_ as _since father's death._

'It is to be my room,' Thoren pointed out. 'It needs… cleaning out. And I'd rather do it myself than have some uncaring servant go through their belongings. And…' Now it was his turn to hesitate. 'There are so many things here, Duria, so many things that we could never even guess at.'

Duria nodded in what appeared to be understanding. 'I know. We all read their journal.' She sounded a little sad.

The king shook his head. 'There's so much more, especially about mother. Sometimes I even wonder if we knew her at all.' He looked down at the sheaf of parchment he had been steadily ploughing his way through. 'There's so many things she wrote…' And that did not even begin to cover it.

'She was some sort of scribe, wasn't she?' Duria asked. 'In that other world? Those are her writings?' She looked pointedly at the parchments.

'Letters,' Thoren corrected. 'To her brother.'

Duria frowned. 'Uncle Jacko, the one we never met? She never sent them?'

Duria was a bright woman, but sometimes she could be rather dim. 'How do you think she would have done that?' he asked. 'He lives in another world.' Suddenly he wondered about that. Uncle Jacko, he had been told, was his mother's twin brother, but she had died only half a year ago of old age. Jacko may not even be alive anymore himself. But it was not as if they would ever have a chance of knowing for sure. 'And I don't think Gandalf would have done it for her.' What he knew of the wizard was mostly hearsay, but he knew his mother had never grown very fond of him.

His sister nodded. 'I see.' She looked again. 'Can I read them?'

Thoren nodded. 'Of course.' Mahal knew he wanted to share this with someone, even if only with his nosy sister. And so he made room for her on the rug where he himself was sitting, and passed her the first letter.

* * *

Erebor, early spring 2945 TA

Dear Jacko,

It's been a while since I wrote to you, but life has been rather busy here. But now there's a snow storm raging around the Mountain and we're all cooped up in here. Trade has been suspended until the roads are clear again; now there is just too much snow and far too much cold. If Thorin can be believed, this is not an unusual thing so late in winter or early in spring, if this can indeed be called spring at all, but I have never seen it before and to tell you the truth, I do not like it. Give me warmth and sun any day.

At least this means that life has quietened down somewhat. Thranduil won't make it through this blizzard for quite some time, which will postpone the meeting for at least another few weeks. I daresay everyone involved is glad of this. One thing has not changed since I first stepped foot in this world; relationships between elves and dwarves are still as glacial as they have ever been.

Or maybe glacial is not quite the correct word. Thorin's blood has reached boiling point more than once over the past few weeks. Yes, this may be a momentous occasion, because this will be the first time in years Thorin and Thranduil are even willing to talk to each other – progress indeed – but it is of course not unlike that elf to try and make things explode before we have even started.

He was remarkably not difficult about the location of the talks, which should have put us on guard of course, but it didn't. Then the message came that he would bring his nephew with him to the talks, which is quite out of the question. Remember when I wrote that Galas once knocked me out with the hilt of his sword? Well, Thorin may not be at liberty to repay that elf in kind, but he is not about to let him come anywhere near the front gate. To make a long story short: Thorin refused, Thranduil took offence and ever since then messages have been passed to and fro, getting ruder every time. Thorin has been in a right foul mood ever since and lately I heard Thoren say something that sounds remarkably like "bloody elves" and no, I did _not_ teach him that, thank you very much! Thank goodness Thráin is still too young to understand what is going on.

The thing is, I should perhaps be the one to pacify the situation, but I don't want to. Galas is an arrogant sod with less brains than your average goldfish and an ego roughly the size of the Himalaya, which is always a very dangerous situation. But well, it would seem I am the queen now and queens don't get to keep grudges against a foreign ruler's nephew. When did life become so bloody complicated!

All my love,

Kate

* * *

Erebor, spring 2945 TA

Dear Jacko,

Just a quick update on the trade talks. They're over. _Successfully_ and _safely_ over, with the only casualties a few dented egos, mostly on Thranduil's side. But thank Mahal they're gone. If I had to put up with all those pointy-ears for even a day longer, I might have gone mad. Their complaints ranged from our lack of vegetables on the menu and the lack of trees in the city – honestly, are they all so dim that they can't see that trees don't grow on bare rock? – to the lack of fresh air and smoking hearths. Most of the complainers came to me rather than to Thorin – which may have been not such an unwise decision – and especially that Lainor fellow annoyed the hell out of me. Honestly, would it kill him if a meal passed without the salad? It's not as if the two of us seem to have been permanently scarred by it.

But they're gone now and the peace has returned. The trade agreement has been signed and that is, at least for now, the end of it. Now all that needs to happen is for Thorin to get his blood pressure back to normal and for the guest quarters to be cleaned and then all the evidence of elvish presence in the Mountain will be gone. I can't wait.

As for Galas, he didn't come. He was planning to and would thus cause a major diplomatic meltdown, but very unfortunately for him he fell from his horse near Dale, broke a leg and an arm and he had to stay behind, solving all the problems. I would bet that Thorin and his closest advisors were a little too unsurprised to learn it, almost as if they already knew such a thing would happen, and some of the guards were missing around the time this "accident" occurred. I have refrained from asking what really happened. Politics is a nasty business and talking not always solves every problem, no matter how much I would like that. I suppose I will have to get used to it.

All my love,

Kate

* * *

Erebor, autumn 2945

Dear Jacko,

Life in the Mountain has turned to madness. Maybe it has always been like this and I never noticed before, but I could not tell. The thing is, Thorin has gone to Esgaroth for business and now he left me in charge of the council. That was three days ago and I am beginning to think he has made a serious mistake. He could have left me in charge of a zoo or a group of hyperactive toddlers and it would have gone better than it goes now. You simply won't believe the amount of prejudice I have to fight against here.

So yes, I am the first human Queen under the Mountain and yes, there are quite some people here that are less than okay with that, but when Thorin first told me I might face troubles because of that, I thought he was exaggerating. I know better now. Normally, when he is around, people keep their tongues under control. Now, when he is not here, they do not. Apparently I am degrading/polluting/ruining/all-of-the-above the line of Durin by my very presence. Some are at least subtle about their opinions, others not so much.

And the council leads by example in this case. Quite a few of the people on it are decent. There are a few members of the old company and Lord Toigan is nothing short of a saint in my opinion. Some others are moderate and are wise enough to keep any unpleasant notions to themselves, but others… So, without further ado, I'll introduce you to my very own headaches: Lord Nali and his daughter Nai. Nali is an elderly noble who does not yet qualify as antique, but he is well on his way to become it. He lived in Erebor before the dragon came, but like the true whiner/coward/comfort-loving dwarf that he is, he fled to the Iron Hills until we took back the Mountain. He does have some useful connections there, so we need him and the law says that we cannot actually kick him out for deserting his own people in their hour of need – ridiculous arrangement – so there he is. Biggest complainer I've ever met and also the leader of what appears to be the anti-Kate movement. Mind you, his only daughter, Lady Nai, is just as bad, if she isn't worse. She is not officially a part of the council, but she always accompanies her father, because he is so "frail." I sometimes wonder if we're talking about the same Lord Nali. This pathetic excuse for a female is a true expert at verbal backstabbing and strengthens the thought that women fight their battles with snarky words and scathing remarks spoken in sweet tones. Fighting fire with fire seems to help some.

Just not today. Lord Nali is going on and on about the control over the new mining shaft they found the other day, claiming it is on his patch, even when it is quite obvious that it is in fact just not on his patch, but on his neighbour's, Lord Bari, whom I happen to like quite a bit better. Yes, I am biased, but it would also be the right thing to do to give it to Bari, because that would be justice. Granting it to Lord Nali would be a grave _in_justice. That hasn't stopped him from pursuing the matter with an enthusiasm that does not befit one his age at all.

I wish I even had an ounce of your patience with all those self-important whiners, but I don't. Out of the two of us you were clearly the one born to be a politician. I'm too blunt and short-tempered for it and so, I fear, is Thorin. In that respect we are remarkably alike. I lack the laser look with the power to shut them up though. On days like these I sometimes just feel the strong urge to behave like Thoren on a difficult day: wail and scream until I get my way for once.

All my love,

Kate

P.S. It might be worth a try, even if only for the joy of seeing Nali's face.

* * *

Erebor, spring 2946 TA

Dear Jacko,

When I accepted Thorin's proposal, I thought I knew what I was in for. I knew that I was going to be a queen, going to rule. I also knew this meant that I would sit through more councils and talks than I cared to think about. I even anticipated that not everyone of Durin's Folk would be thrilled to have a human woman for a queen.

What I didn't expect was for me to become the Peacemaker under the Mountain. Yet, that is what seems to have happened today. What happened, you wonder? Lord Moron happened. Admittedly his name is Merin, but it's just the two letters and between the two of us, Thorin and I have agreed his nickname suits him better. Believe it or not, I even believe Thorin was the one to come up with it in the first place.

Come to think of it, he has not yet come up in my tales, has he? In short then: Merin, son of Walin, aged ninety-seven, descendant of a noble family originally from Erebor, but – surprise, surprise – fled to the Iron Hills when Smaug came. Merin's father has a seat on the council and is, to my huge annoyance, a close friend of my biggest headache. But at least Walin can keep his tongue, his son cannot. He's just one of those youngsters that should long since have grown up, but seems to be stuck in puberty. He has an ego approximately the size of the Mountain itself, the brains and friendliness of a jellyfish and a group of friends who follow him around like a bunch of idiots, doting on his every word.

Unfortunately for me he seems to have joined the anti-Kate movement, a popular movement among the returned nobles from the Iron Hills. That lot has no idea what it is like to live in exile and they therefore do not understand the need for change, instead hanging onto their beloved traditions with a passion that by all rights should have driven their spouses to fierce jealousy decades ago. One of their traditions is that dwarves keep to themselves and outsiders are not welcome, with me being the outsider.

Merin and his followers – because that is what they really are – have taken it upon themselves to bleat this view to the world and preferably within my hearing distance. I just tend to ignore them. They are bullies and as long as their attacks are verbal – as if any of them even dares to lay a finger on me; they value their heads attached to their bodies after all – I can repay them in kind and Moron's taunts lack greatly in originality, so it's almost amusing to exchange these witticisms with him. Childish of me? Perhaps, but in my defence, Moron is rather a child himself.

So far, so good. He was at it again today, but since I had more urgent business to concern myself with, I let it be. I've heard worse and it's difficult to get worked up over things I've heard so often before. Moron just had the bad luck that Thorin walked into the corridor as he spat at me that my children were an abomination.

I'm afraid to say that the dignified King under the Mountain lost it. He stormed through the hallway like an angry bull and knocked Moron clean off his feet. I had to call the guards to put an end to things, but by then Merin's face had gained an intimate knowledge of Thorin's fists and he was out cold by the time the guards finally arrived. Thorin too was knock-out, but only because Lufur had to, because otherwise Thorin would have happily continued to beat Moron to pulp.

Lufur is a dear and, some would say, far too kind-hearted to be in the guard, despite his clear bulk of muscle. 'Beg your pardon, my lady,' he told me with a bow and a blush of embarrassment. 'Didn't mean to use that much force, but…'

It was damn well necessary. I don't think I've ever seen Thorin that mad and here I was thinking I had seen it all. Apparently I was wrong in that assumption. Well, at least I am grateful Lufur acted as he did – and now I need to make sure Thorin never reads this – because it allowed me to deal with matters before it could truly get nasty again. Strangely enough it didn't take that much persuasion to make Walin see the wisdom of relocating to the Iron Hills along with his family and now they're gone. Thorin is most displeased and is seriously contemplating going after them, but so far I've managed to keep him in the Mountain. All of a sudden it is as if my husband's disappeared and I've just gained another child to look after. He's standing in front of the hearth, brooding again, plotting bloody murder. Catherine the Peacemaker indeed. Well, it does have a nice ring to it, don't you agree? It sounds better than Catherine the Child-minder anyway.

All my love,

Kate

* * *

Erebor, early summer 2946 TA

Dear Jacko,

Why do I bother? Why do I bother writing letters that I can never send, that you will never read? Why do I keep writing to you as if you know what I am even talking about? You don't know the persons I describe, you have never seen your nephews, nor will you ever, and the same is true for me. I haven't got a clue as to what is going on in your life. Good grief, you will not even see the letter I'm writing this very minute! It's like I am writing to myself, just pretending that maybe someday you'll read them, something a foolish little girl might do.

I know we'll never meet again and it was I that made that choice. Do not mistake me, I do not regret it. If I were to make the same choice today, I would choose no different. That doesn't make these feelings go away though. Even though this was my choice and I'll stand by it, it does not change the feeling of being torn in half. I miss you, I miss mum, I even miss the cat, although he'll be dead by now for all I know.

And that's the point, isn't it. I _don't_ know. And I am never going to know either. I don't know what's become of you, how you are and it's driving me up the bloody wall.

But what's the point of that anyway?

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Erebor, late summer 2946

Dear Jacko,

Unexpected ladies' day away from the kingdom today and what a relief it's been. Thorin offered to babysit – am expecting all kinds of disaster to meet me when I return home – and let Dís and Thora whisk me away to only Mahal knew where, because they sure as hell weren't telling me. I am suspecting it's an early birthday gift, especially since Thorin appeared to be in on the whole thing. 'Because it's been such a busy summer,' Thora claimed and Thorin keeps insisting it's because his sister loves a bit of female company, but I don't think so.

Anyway, it's nice and Thora's remark isn't completely off the mark either. It has been a busy summer what with trade talks, mining crises and the explosion in two of the forges. And apparently Thora's idea of fun is to seek out the markets of Dale. I must admit that I was a little sceptical at first. I mean, the queen cannot be seen acting like a giggling school girl now, can she? Apparently she can though and it has been more fun than I believed I would have.

What we did, you ask? Well, you could compare it with Laura, Anna and me going shopping, I suppose. Getting the picture? Afterwards we picnicked on the grass outside the town and had quite a lot of fun making a mess of one another's hair. Dís and Thora are both aware of my background and you won't believe how good it is not to watch my tongue all the time, although I might have scarred Thora for life when I told her of modern fashion sense…

All my love,

Kate

P.S. Situation at home on my arrival: chambers looking like a hurricane went through them, Thorin in complete disarray, Thoren spilling ink over the trade agreement with Esgaroth and Thráin sleeping on the edge of the table. What. The. Hell. Happened? I wasn't gone for _that_ long!

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**Normally I put letters and the like in italics, but since most of this chapter is a letter and it would not read very pleasantly, I didn't do that in this chapter. I might do more of these letter things again, but right now I'm out of ideas. Suggestions are always welcome, as are reviews. I love to hear from you!**


	5. Chapter 5 Erebor Was Lost

**Hello everyone. This time there's another outtake from The Journal, an extensive version of Thorin's flashback in chapter 59. It's mostly movie-based, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway!**

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**Chapter 5**

**Erebor Was Lost**

"_Visions appeared on his mind's eye, memories of the day Erebor had been taken. He recalled the fire, the almost unbearable heat, the fear, the screams and he had to remind himself that getting lost in his memories would do nothing whatsoever in helping him to take back what Smaug had taken."_

The Journal, chapter 59: Homecoming

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Later Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, would sometimes wonder how it was possible that a day that began so good, could end in such misery. It was one of those things he did not have an answer to, as he sat near the fire, staring off into the distance, where the area around Erebor was still burning, the smoke obscuring the Mountain itself from view.

And then to think that the day had started out as an ordinary day. Well, it had not been exactly peaceful. He was woken when a little piece of rock broke from the ceiling and fell onto his stomach with considerable force. That was what it felt like anyway.

'Ugh!' he sputtered, cracking one eye open to see what was happening.

He found himself looking at two twinkling blue eyes, framed by messy black hair, that no one had bothered to put a comb through since the owner had gotten out of bed. 'Morning, brother!' the little menace said cheerfully.

'Dís,' Thorin acknowledged with a groan. 'What are you doing out so early?' Precious few the female dwarves may be, but his sister was a wildcat and not even a dwarf in Thorin's opinion. Where she got so much energy from and so early in the morning too, he'd never know.

Dís shook her head. 'You're late,' she corrected. 'Ma says you have to inspect the guards with Balin as soon as you've eaten breakfast.'

He remembered that, remembered that all too well. And he was in absolutely no mood to inspect any guards, not when his bed still felt so very comfortable. 'Get off,' he demanded. Dís was still jumping up and down on him, which did nothing at all to increase his appetite. 'Why hasn't someone done your hair yet?' His little sister was dressed, but her hair was a mess.

'I was busy,' she said haughtily. 'I needed to wake you. And ma says that if you don't get out, she'll send Frerin with a bucket of water in next.' She grinned mischievously. 'Can you stay in bed for a little longer?'

Thorin snorted. No, he would not risk that if he could help it. Sometimes he wondered if he was the only one from his siblings who didn't live to make mischief as a daily job. 'I don't think so,' he said as he worked himself up into a sitting position. 'Here, let me have a look at that hair.' He didn't wait for an answer, just lifted his sister up and turned her around so he could get at that bird's nest she called hair.

'Thorin!' she protested, but he paid her no heed, taking the comb from the bedside table and putting it through her hair. That made her sit still at least. 'You're boring,' she commented. 'Frerin is more fun.' She sounded as if she was pouting.

Thorin could feel a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 'Frerin is more fun, is he?' He tied off the simple braid he'd made – anything more complex would be a waste of time, since she would run around all day and undo all his work anyway – and tickled her sides. 'We'll see about that.'

Dís let out a high-pitched squeal as she writhed to get away from him. 'Thorin, let go!' There was one thing this little lady excelled in, and that was in screaming as if she was a pig led to slaughter, making Frerin pop in.

'Where are the orcs?' he demanded, holding his sword up with a grin. 'Ah, I see! Don't fret, princess, I'm here to save you!' With those words he dove on the bed and the whole thing ended up in a wrestling match that lasted at least ten more minutes, the result being Thorin being pinned down, with Frerin holding down his arms and Dís sitting on his legs to prevent him from moving those.

'I yield! I yield!' he laughed. 'Will the little orcs now kindly get off so that I can inspect the guards?'

Frerin frowned and looked at Dís. 'What do you think, little sister? Shall we let him?'

Dís looked thoughtful. 'I'll need to think about it,' she said in a perfect imitation of their mother.

Thorin took advantage of both their distraction to throw them off and make a run for it, grabbing his clothes and boots on the way out, locking the door to his bedroom behind him to buy himself some time. Frerin would pick the lock within minutes, but he did give himself a head start, which he would need, because he was late. The braids in his hair and beard were still more and less in place and he fixed them as he grabbed breakfast on his way out, chewing on it as he put on his boots.

'You're off, then?' his mother asked. Lady Theyra was a tall dwarf, but Thorin was almost as tall as she was these days.

'Thanks to those two orcs I'm late enough as it is,' he nodded. There wasn't any real malice though. Although he would never admit it out loud, Frerin and Dís provided some well-needed distraction these days now that his responsibilities grew ever heavier. It was good to remember to laugh and his siblings never passed up an opportunity to remind him how to do that.

His mother tugged the braid in his beard softly. 'Don't you say that you did not enjoy it, lad.'

Thorin smiled. 'Well…'

She nudged him in the right direction. 'Off with you. Try to be home in time.'

'I'll try,' Thorin promised. And try he would, but there were no real promises he could make. That used to be different some years ago, but that was when his grandfather was still paying more attention to the ruling of the kingdom than the contents of the treasury. Thorin tried not to let this bitter him, but he could not deny that King Thrór's behaviour worried him. It seemed to have gotten worse in the last month again and so ever more duties fell on his father and Thorin. He would not object against those – one day they would all fall to him, he had been told for years – but it was the reason for this that worried him. And there was nothing any of them could do, nothing a healer could give a medicine for. The affliction was of the mind and it frightened the young prince more than he dared to say.

He met up with Balin near the front gate, waiting with the patrol. 'You're late, laddie,' he commented, an indulgent smile on his face.

'I was set upon by a band of vicious orcs,' he answered with a straight face. 'And I had to fight my way out.' He cast a look around, noticing that they were still missing one other dwarf. 'Won't the king be joining us?' A shiver went down his spine; he had a very good idea of the answer already, but he needed the answer.

Balin indeed looked uncomfortable. 'The king is otherwise occupied,' he replied tactfully.

_He is counting his gold in the treasure room, more like_. Thorin quashed the thought immediately though. His grandfather was still the king and as such he was entitled to respect. He was not showing that by agreeing with Balin in public. And the less news of the seriousness of the situation seeped through to the outside world, the better it would be for everyone involved.

'Then we will go without him,' Thorin decided. That was the only thing to be done now. If he continued as normal, then he could maybe even fool himself that everything was normal, at least until he would see his grandfather again. Then he would know that things were not normal. He was at least grateful that his grandmother wasn't here to see it. He was sure it would have broken her heart to see it. Come to think of it, his grandfather's affliction seemed to have begun four years previous, shortly after her death. He was loath to dismiss that as mere coincidence.

Balin nodded. The patrol made ready to go, when a guard descended the stairs in a hurry. 'My lord,' he said, bowing to Thorin. 'There is a storm coming from the north.'

Thorin frowned. Storms were not unusual in this area, but it was unusual that a guard made mention of it. After all, the Mountain had weathered many storms and had never even been damaged in one. It was the way of mountains: they endured.

'Why are you mentioning this?' Thorin asked sternly. 'If the gate needs closing, you can see to that.'

The dwarf opposite him, only a year or two older than the prince, looked fairly nervous. 'There is something wrong, my lord,' he said. 'The wind is coming from the north, but it is as hot as the wind blowing from the deserts in high summer.'

Thorin could not explain why he felt so uncomfortable at hearing that, but it was a fact that hot winds did not come from the north. The winds coming from the north were cold and icy, never even near warm. Something was wrong now that they were.

He took the chairs two at a time as he made his way to the top of the front gate, the guards at his heels. And the closer he came to the top of the staircase, the warmer the air became. It was a dry kind of heat, the kind one felt when there was a fire nearby. The sounds of the wind were drowning out most of the other noises outside. And even though it was hot here, a cold shiver nonetheless found its way down Thorin's spine again. He knew what this was.

In the back of his head a memory stirred of days spent in the library, being taught history by his teachers. The old dwarf who was tasked with teaching him had told of the expedition to the Grey Mountains and how it had failed because of the dragons that had driven the dwarves out. He vividly recalled the tales old Vurin told then. 'First, my lad, there was always a hot, dry wind to announce their coming,' he had said when Thorin had asked him how his ancestors had escaped the beasts, because surely there was no possibility of escape once they came. 'That was how they knew when to run.'

A hot, dry wind was blowing now and from the direction where there still lived dragons. It was commonly known that the Grey Mountains were still infested with the foul breed, but it was also common knowledge that they never ventured south, not this far south. Had one of those now done so?

He turned back to Balin. If his suspicion was right, there was no time to lose. If he was wrong, he would be making a fool out of himself, but that was a risk he would have to take. 'Sound the alarm,' he ordered. 'Call out the guard. And do it now.' The longer this unnatural feeling storm went on, the more he became convinced that he was not wrong, even though he knew he wanted to be.

But Balin knew too. He was rather bookish in his spare time, knew their history by heart. But Thorin could see that he did not want to believe it, not yet. 'What is it?'

The question may have been rhetorical, but Thorin answered it all the same. 'Dragon.' He shouted that warning to the inside of the Mountain too. Maybe he would be made out as a fool when it did turn out this was just an unusual storm, but that was a risk he was willing to take, because it was much better than the alternative.

It was as if his call summoned the beast. A burning pine was thrown into their line of sight and he all but froze into place. He had been right. Maker be good, he had been right.

But there was no time to freeze into place, not now, not when the dragon breathed fire on the battlements and the dwarves manning it. Even despite his warning, many were taken by surprise, burned to cinders before they could even begin to run.

Thorin thanked his quick reflexes for his next action of roughly grabbing Balin and hiding behind a large column as the sea of fire emerging from the beast's mouth fell all around them. The air was hot, unbearably hot and the stench of burning flesh and hair made the dwarf prince want to throw up on the spot.

And the fire seemed to last forever, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. But eventually it did stop and he let go of his friend. Both of them were panting, trying to process what had happened, although Thorin wasn't sure he wanted his mind to linger on the events he had witnessed. Where only minutes before the guards had stood, there were nasty burns on the floor, but nothing else. The dragon fire had removed all other traces of their existence. No remains were left.

Balin walked up the battlements. 'Thorin, it's gone! It's gone, laddie.' A relieved smile graced his face.

Thorin remembered his lessons and he did not smile. 'But it will be back before long,' he answered.

The next half hour passed in something of a blur for the dwarf prince. Guards told him the firedrake had made for Dale and was dealing out death there as they were speaking, but in Thorin's mind there was hardly time to think of anything but the defence of his own kingdom. He felt for the people of that city, but he also knew there was nothing he could do for them, nothing at all. And he had his own people to think of. Their own doom was fast approaching, for that beast would not find what he was surely looking for in Dale.

The front gate had been closed and Thorin's own father had now appeared to take some of the responsibilities. Thorin was glad of it, even as he could not help but notice that the king himself was still nowhere in sight. But that too would have to wait until this was all over.

Deep down inside he feared the outcome of this fight. History had taught him a good few lessons about dragons and he knew they were strong, determined and vicious. The dwarves that had settled in the Grey Mountains did not really have any chance to defend themselves. The dragons were too strong for them, too big.

But they did stand a better chance, he told himself. Erebor was a strong kingdom, with defences that had yet to be overcome. The front gate took ten dwarves to even move if it was not locked and bolted the way it was now. They did stand a chance. Not all was lost just yet. And if he had any say in the matter, it would never be lost. This kingdom, like the mountains, had been made to endure.

'Ready, lad?' a voice came from his right as he marched up to the head of the column.

The dwarf looked to his right to see Frár, one of his father's personal guards. He was getting older, but he was the kindest soul Thorin had ever met. When Frerin and he had still been very small he'd let the two of them climb on his knees and back and use him for a horse. They could get away with nearly everything. As they grew up, Frár was the one they sparred with in training, who gave them advice, even though they weren't always looking for it. Now, it was a reassuring thought to have him with him.

He nodded, even though it was a lie. How could anyone ever be ready for something like this?

But ready or not, time had run out. The sound of a furious dragon pounding at the door made Thorin grip his spear tighter. Even though it had been made by dwarves and would therefore be stronger than any manmade weapon, it felt like a toy in his hand, something that would hardly be any use against a firedrake as big as the one he had seen.

One minute. One minute was all it took for the great lizard to make the door fly off its hinges and then there was no more time to think. The beast descended on them in a rain of fire. Thorin ducked and felt the heat passing just overhead, indicating that he had ducked only just in time. He looked up, only to see the dragon pass over him. And for a moment there he feared he would soon find himself crushed under its paws, but they passed over him, deeper and deeper into the Mountain.

It was then that he realised that they did not stand a chance. How could they stand against such a monster? It walked over them, burned them, flung them out of its way as if they were nothing more than annoying insects. The few spears that did come into contact with the dragon bounced right off the scales. The beast did not even seem to feel them. In that moment Thorin, son of Thráin, was afraid.

'Run! Get out of here!' he bellowed. He would rather be taken for a coward than that he would have them all lose their lives here today. It was part of the strategy lessons his grandfather had tried to impart on him. _Better to live and fight another day than to lose lives in a battle that you cannot win_, he had said and he was right. And this was such a battle. Could they ever win against a monster such as this one?

Only when he thought of his grandfather, he realised that the king had not been seen all morning. And Thorin knew beyond the shadow of a doubt where he was. It was also the same place the dragon would be headed for. Maker be good.

'Frár, Turi, get them out of here, _now_!' he bellowed at the two closest moving warriors he could see, trying not to look at the warriors that were not moving for fear of recognising them. And he could not allow anything to cripple him now. Grief and mourning would not be until all was said and done. There simply was no time.

Frár was shouting something, but Thorin could not make out the words over the noise in the halls. There were screams and dragon's roaring. The smell of burning flesh was invading his nostrils, making the dwarf prince sick to his stomach, but he pressed on, shouting at his people to run as he passed them. How many heard him and obeyed his command he would never know. Thorin feared that there were less of them than he had hoped.

Later he may wonder why he was not afraid in that moment, and he might decide that there were more important things to be felt. Panic, aye, there was that, but there was determination also and a sense of duty that had been instilled in him ever since he was a boy. Anger was more present, boiling in his blood, fuelling his every step. Furious he was. Maybe it was unnatural, especially when the rest of his people seemed to have descended into chaos, making for the front gate as fast as they could, while he was running in the opposite direction.

But none of that mattered now. Just a little distance ahead of him he could see king Thrór's head, making for the treasury, clutching something to his chest.

'Grandfather, no!' Thorin yelled. He had lost track of where the dragon was some time ago, but he was bound to be somewhere close. The echoing in the halls and the many screams made it difficult to pinpoint where the dragon's roaring came from. But he remembered Vurin's lessons all too well. 'Gold, my lad. Dragons will always crave gold more fiercely than we crave air to breathe.'

He forced himself to run faster, grateful for all those times Frár had made him run around the training grounds until he was sure he would collapse in exhaustion. It paid off now. The roars of the dragon were intensifying in volume and Thorin knew that his assessment of where the beast was headed had been correct.

He ran into the treasury only feet behind his grandfather and king, who was in the process of kneeling on the stones, as if he was looking for something. The madness must have a firm grip on his mind to make him disregard his own life in such a careless way. The piles of gold were thrown all across the room, moving like waves on the river, making it all too clear that there was something big and dangerous behind it. For the first time since this ordeal had begun, Thorin felt a twinge of fear.

'Get out of here!' he bellowed at the king, grabbing him like a bag of flour and dragging him out of the treasury with him. With his free hand he pointed his sword in the direction of the beast. It would not do anything to save his life should the drake see him, but it made him feel a little more secure, if only a little.

He did feel better once they were back in the main hall and he had kicked the door to the treasure room firmly shot. It would do nothing to save them, but hopefully it would buy them a little time.

And he would need the time. Before now, his grandfather had been too much in shock to protest the treatment, but now he had come to his senses and he fought Thorin off easily. King Thrór had the advantage of age and experience over his grandson and Thorin found himself knocked to the ground forcefully. 'What are you doing?' he hissed. The madness burned in his eyes and for just a moment the dragon seemed wholly unimportant in comparison with the madness that had taken hold of the King under the Mountain. 'You were trying to steal from me, weren't you? You won't get it, you hear me?'

Thorin tasted blood, but he could not care. He rose to his feet and, praying that the Maker would forgive him for this, hit his grandfather across the face. 'Grandfather, please!' Thorin was not the kind of dwarf who pleaded with others, but now he did, and almost without thinking.

The gleam of madness disappeared, sanity returned and for a moment the King under the Mountain looked utterly shocked and appalled, and not by his grandson. 'My lad…' His voice trailed off as he saw who it was that he was talking to.

'We need to get out of here,' Thorin merely said. 'The Mountain is lost.' As much as it pained him to even think it, this was the truth. The consequences of it had to wait until later, until they were far away from the danger the dragon posed. Later.

King Thrór did not waste any words on the matter. He merely nodded and followed Thorin out of Erebor. The dwarf prince tried and failed not to look at the corpses that littered the stones. He did not give himself the time to stop and look at faces; even without looking he knew that there would be people he knew and cared for amongst them. He did not even know what had become of his own family.

The light of the sun, no matter how obscured by the smoke that rose up from the burning fields, was one of the most welcome sights he had ever beheld. It was a false sense of safety, he knew, but it was something. And with relief he noted his father standing close by, overseeing the evacuation of Erebor, although a small voice in the back of Thorin's head told him it was more of a flight than an evacuation. He kept that thought to himself.

The line of Durin was not given to expressing emotions, but Thorin's father looked relieved when he saw the king and his own son.

'Get him out of here,' Thorin muttered.

The small nod Thráin gave in response to that told Thorin that he understood. The madness was a powerful thing, and unpredictable. King Thrór may have walked out of Erebor of his own volition, but there was no telling if he would not rush back the next minute.

As for Thorin himself, his mind was in chaos, filled with thoughts of both rage and despair. He had a fierce wish to rush back in to fight the monster by himself, if only to do something, anything at all, but his duty to his people had to come first and Thorin knew that. It had been taught to him ever since he was a child. And with his grandfather not paying much attention to his duties and his father too preoccupied getting Thrór out, that duty fell to Thorin. There were still so many dwarves inside the Mountain and so few outside. He had to go back and make sure as many as possible would make it to safety, wherever that was. That was his duty as prince after all.

And it was a heavy one, one he was afraid he would be too young to shoulder, but there simply was no time to dwell on such thoughts and so he ran back, sword in hand, for whatever good it may do him. He had spotted Dís with a group of children, her eyes wide with fear. She was still trying to be the strong princess though, grown up before her time. Gone was the mischievous lass who had wrestled with him only this morning. But at least she was alive and that was what counted. Except for his brother and his mother, his family at the very least had been accounted for.

He ran into Frerin when he was near the gate. His younger brother by five years had his hair singed a bit, suggesting he had come quite a bit closer to the firedrake than he should have been. But he appeared to be otherwise uninjured and his eyes were sparking with righteous rage instead of with mirth, as they usually did. It was a frightening change in his younger sibling, but Thorin did not allow himself to dwell on that either.

'How many are still inside?' he had demanded.

Frerin shook his head. 'I do not know,' he replied. 'Too many.'

He did not allow himself to think of the dangers as he made his decision. 'Then we will go back and see that as many as possible are evacuated.' He had been on his way to do that anyway. The difference was that he now involved Frerin in it as well.

Frerin did not protest. Instead he followed Thorin without question, as he'd always done since the day he had learned to walk. But it was easier said than done, for they were the only two even trying to go back. Panic had broken out among the people and they were running for their lives, some of them with only the clothes they wore, others clutching as many valuables as they had been able to grasp to their chests. Thorin found he despised them, to think of wealth when so many needed those arms to lean on.

Frerin had followed his gaze and spat on the ground. 'They disgust me,' he muttered under his breath. It was very unlike him to talk like that. Frerin had always been the happy one, the careless one. He'd had all the privileges of being a prince of Durin's line, whilst having to bear none of the burdens that came with being the heir to the throne. Thorin sometimes envied him for that, but now he only regretted that his brother had needed to change so drastically in so short a time.

Thorin did not reply. There was nothing he could say that could make this any less horrible and he had a task to be done. They were getting ever closer to the main gate and he could already see his mother standing there, ushering people through it with a calm that was in sharp contrast with the panic Thorin could see on so many other faces. Once again he admired her strength of mind and wished he had but a fraction of it. No matter how great the crisis, she always kept a clear head and balanced his father's sometimes fiery temper. They were a good match and right now her calm composure was a gift from Mahal himself. Even though she must know there was a dragon lurking close by, she never wavered and even when the most horrible sounds were heard from within, she never left her place. He had to admire her for that.

'How many are still in there?' he asked as he joined her.

Her reply was the same as Frerin's had been. 'Too many, my son.' She may sound as if she was in complete control, but Thorin was not easily fooled. He heard the concern and the helplessness he himself experienced.

'I will try to find more men to help you,' he promised, even when he doubted how many he would be able to find that would be brave enough to come back with him. Dwarves were not known for cowardice, but to go up against a dragon would be a fool's errand, a suicide mission.

She merely nodded, not pointing out that his plan would never work. 'Good,' she said. 'Frerin, help Darin here.' She pointed at a young warrior who was barely able to remain on his own two feet. There was blood trickling down his forehead and into his eyes. On his own he would never be able to make it out of the Mountain to safety. 'Thorin, you take Frár out.'

Frár had collapsed next to the gate, sporting bad burns and bleeding wounds. He had been in the thick of it and although Thorin did not say it, it was nothing short of a miracle that he was still drawing breath. And he had only been beside Thorin when the dragon had descended on them like a hungry wolf on defenceless sheep. Such a small distance between safety and danger.

'Put your arm around my neck,' he ordered, trying to haul the elderly guard to his feet. 'Come, Frár, we can yet make it out.' He was not entirely sure if his old friend was even entirely conscious, but he at least did what he was told with some help of his protégé. Otherwise he gave no sign of being aware of anything anymore. Thorin was forced to carry his entire weight as he stood up, a burden just as crushing as the weight of duty. He turned back to his mother. 'I will be back as quick as I can.'

A few young children were clinging to her skirts, too scared to go anywhere without someone there to hold their hands, frozen into place, and Thorin made the mental promise to guide them to safety the moment he came back. The little ones were scared out of their depth, eyes wide and faces pale. Some were crying. 'Will you?' a boy asked with a tremor in his voice.

Thorin nodded, conjuring up the most reassuring smile he could manage under the given circumstances. 'I will,' he said. 'I will be back before you know it.'

It was a promise he ended up breaking, but not for lack of trying. He was forcing Frár on as fast as he could, all but carrying him over the road, but it wasn't fast enough. It was only half a minute after he had taken his leave of the small group at the gate that he heard it, the hurricane-like noise and the dragon's furious roar.

He swivelled around and found his mother's eyes, calm, but now with a hint of fear in them. Her arms were wrapped around the children near her. It was the last he ever saw of her. The next moment she disappeared in the dragon's fire and when the flame at long last disappeared, there was no one there anymore. The desperate cry had escaped his lips unchecked and he could feel tears mingling with the sweat that was trickling down his face already. Maybe it was only then that it truly started to dawn on him what they had lost, only now that he had lost someone he held dear. The pain was worse than anything he had ever felt before, but he had to force his grief back for the sake of his people and with the elves appearing on the horizon, he could at least begin to hope that they were not alone in their hour of need.

His hopes had vanished as soon as they had appeared when Thranduil turned his back on his allies and left the dwarves to fend for themselves. Thorin could see the elf's face as he looked down on the disaster unfolding before his very eyes. From such a distance it was difficult to make out what expression was on his face, but he seemed unmoved by the dwarves' plight, an idea that was strengthened when he turned around and commanded his troops to turn back. As they disappeared out of sight, they took Thorin's last hope with them.

As it was, they didn't make it far before they had to stop so that they could allow their wounded to rest. And there were too many of them. Too many were wounded, but there were hardly any medicines, or healers for that matter. There had been no time to fetch any supplies before they had run for their very lives. The elves could have aided them in that at least, even if they did not dare to risk their lives against a firedrake. Now they were left to themselves.

It proved to be Frár's death. He was a fighter and he clung to life with a stubbornness that was their race's most prominent characteristic, but his mind was not strong enough to make his heart continue to beat when the body had been injured so much. He passed on just before the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the horizon, fighting till his very last breath.

Thorin left the healers then. It was just one more death on top of all the people they had already lost, but it was the last straw, he supposed. It was just too much. He made his way to a cooking fire that seemed abandoned nearby. How strange that the very thing that had destroyed their home and had killed so many of his people was necessary to keep them from freezing to death. It was irony if ever he heard it.

Heavy footsteps drew his attention away from the campfire. Frerin was approaching, face still stained with blood and ash, beard and clothes torn. He was carrying Dís, who was clinging to him as if her very life depended on it, shoulders shaking as if she were crying. She _was_ crying, Thorin knew, crying because her whole world had been turned upside down and she did not truly understand yet why they were still out after dark.

Frerin looked dishevelled. There was no other word for it. Thorin had grown used to having a younger brother who was full of mischief, sparkling eyes and quick smiles. Tonight, there was none of that. There was only a seriousness that Thorin was starting to associate with their father more and more. 'She doesn't have a coat,' he said. 'And she's cold.' _And I don't know what to do_. Those words were unspoken, but Thorin heard them all the same and they broke his heart.

Their father was too busy, as was their grandfather, and their mother was no more. And Frerin had come to him, so he held out his arms and took his sister from his brother, tucking her under his cloak. She was small enough to fit in there, so she could warm herself. It was only now that he noticed that her feet were bare. Yes, Dís would do that. She was a wild child, who preferred to run around the Mountain without any boots on. The dragon must have interrupted her game.

She grabbed his tunic and buried her face against his chest. 'I want to go home, Thorin. Why can't we go home?'

He wished there was something reassuring he could say to her, but there was nothing forthcoming. That had always been his mother's job. 'Because we don't have a home anymore,' he replied with heavy heart. He stared into the darkness, seeing his home still burning, with flames and smoke alike rising up to the night sky, obscuring the moon. Erebor was lost and so, he knew, were they.

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**I hope you liked it. Please review? I'd love to hear what you think!**


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